XRP Purgatory and the Translucent Plane

jcollinsEconomics, Esoteric, FREEPOM27 Comments

JC Collins

No one wanted to be wrong at a time when no one knew how to be right.  All existed in that place which was once called purgatory but has since been named enlightenment.  It was a space which encompassed two worlds which were more evolving together than colliding.  While one could be lost in the hellish catacombs of the subconscious, another, two steps away from the first, could be transcending the world of light and dark to reside in the translucent plane which exists just beyond.  This space contains the origins of all as well as the seed of one.

For what could possibly exist beyond the world of light and dark? Is such a place even possible?  As I child I glimpsed its great depth and breadth for but a moment.  It was enough.

I propose to suggest that this place is more real than the world of shadows which haunt our material senses.

The pattern of all existence is the transmutation of ‘what is’ into ‘what is to come’. This pattern is visible for those who want to see and experience the truth within and around themselves.  All things merge and evolve into one and that one looks for companionship with another, only to evolve and become again that which needs manifestation. The worlds of centralization and decentralization are in fact the same but represent two unique perspectives from which to experience both. Simultaneous are both upon the road to eternal order and progression.

Finding the correct words and arrangement of words to describe that which is indescribable is one of the great works upon which all transmutation is constructed. From the very beginning, the art of transmutation has defined Man’s existence.  Chicken laid egg. Egg turned into chicken. Chicken laid egg.  Seed grew into wheat and wheat was harvested to turn into bread.  Bread was bartered for chicken and eggs.  Each an act of transmutation from that which was to that which it became.

Human time and labor were transmuted into wealth and this wealth was stored in eggs, chickens, bread, livestock, and an ever-developing expanse of human specialties, such as scribes and the writers of the great laws.  In time money evolved from that which came before.  The evolution of money, or more appropriately, the transmutation of money from stick to blockchain can only be described in these terms which have therefore now been embedded within the lexicon of our mystical digital engagements.  For what you just read cannot be unread and will henceforth germinate within the purgatory of your own transcending mind.

One is not meant to walk backwards upon the path of progression no more than a writer can keep telling the same story with different words. Once a story is told the transmutation is complete.  I have told my story of XRP transmutation and can no longer dwell in that world.  This world.  What worlds may come?

Word and world are but one in design and many in practice.

Two such worlds, like those above, as well as below, are now sharing a common space.  This shared space will be fleeting in its existence and important as the act of transcendence gives birth to the new and the old fades away into the realm of forgotten dreams.  XRP will not remain in purgatory for long as it represents the transmutation of all that came before it, whether its creators intended this or not.  It is the architectural law which governs all of existence which assures this eternal order and progression.

Crawling out of the catacombs of the subconscious I now embrace the light as I move towards the translucent world just beyond.  But I’m not done yet.  There is much to complete before the life I created is allowed to transmutate into the one which I also created.  It is the simultaneous act of evolution which makes all things possible and real. We destroy and create for there to be new.  That which came before XRP is in the process of being destroyed and fading away. Patience.  The translucent plane is now before us.  – JC

JC Collins can be contacted at jcollins@philosophyofmetrics.com

This article is copyrighted by POM Media©2019. As non-Premium content, it can be shared and reposted without further permission.


27 Comments on “XRP Purgatory and the Translucent Plane”

  1. Cool. So when moon racoon? Just kidding JC, I was particularly struck as if by a stick, when you compared money on a stick to money on a blockchain. In the past I’ve always struggled mightedly with the very idea of money, and it’s value being measured on a stick. I couldn’t get it, just couldn’t get it.

    Thanks to you and the POM, I’m starting to get it. Sticks, XRP, same, same.

  2. Lol, so mystical JC. The words flow like stardust riding a frequency wave through my mind. Those frequency waves are activating the particular nerves that fire certain muscles in my face to create a smile. But wait! How did that rouge particle get down to warm this heart? I didn’t agree to that! Oh well might as well just ride the feeling and see where it goes. 😉

        1. Haven’t thought much about it since set up. There needs to be a larger number of people using it before there is a substantial impact.

          1. Oh okay. Hopefully folks will check out the link I posted.

            I have to say I’m just fine with things pal. I understand how Peter feels and all but it’s kind of unfair to the rest of the POM family for him to suggest to close up shop as an ultimatum. Shame, shame Peter 😉 Honestly I don’t think he even meant it in that way and his later comment confirms it.

            Sometimes life tests us and pushes us to places that things to write about just don’t organically come. I applaud your steadfastness to not force it when it just isn’t there. Don’t worry it will come when it is ready….RIGHT Peter? Hahaha, go shine some shoes son 😉

  3. Hunts, what a cool name, not Hunter, not by a long shot. Not Hans, but Hunts. A name from Norway, a name born for a Viking. Pray for his prey.


    1954/56, after having gotten himself half way blown up in Korea what was left of my Uncle Hunts was occasionally granted gold star status. Above and beyond my mother’s somewhat hysterical postestations, ‘fine, fine, but if that drunkin’ dope fiend even begins to worm his way up those basement stairs I will crush his skull with the back of my heel. Such talk from a lady who studied ballet. Fuckin’ Polaks, I love em’.

    It was the basement for the war vet. Not all bad, warm, dry, and place to shit. Plenty of room down there, a third of the house and he had mad construction skills. After a few in and out month long stays he began to have the place fixed up pretty damn nice. Mom even began to relent some, U. Hunts was allowed up from his den for some dinners and even granted babysitter rights when Mom and Dad went out dancing. Polkas I presume, Mom’s rule, Daddy played the violin
    but didn’t ballet. I struggle to find a acceptable image of a Viking dancing. Real Vikings don’t dance.

    Somewhere in that two year period us older kids began to migrate past the previous locked basement door into the forbidden zone. For the most part we were confronted with a tirade, way over the top of any W. C. Fields, “get away kid you bother me”, slap on the head. Our obstacle course included such things as. ‘get the hell out of here you rotten little bastards, can’t you see I’m trying to sleep. You bother me again I’ll lick your head, pick you up by your feet and swallow you whole.” Just a short aside, I told one of my grandsons, a year 7 old, the swallow you whole thing here awhile back and his Dad, my son-in-law overheard me. He had a fit yelling about, how dare I speak to his son like that, don’t I realize how that could scare him. I responded, he wasn’t scared until you had a fit, he’s damned sure scared now, you dumbass. He goes on making it worse, I shut down and said under my breath and to myself, maybe I should call the law before he causes me to break his jaw, I could just hear him then screaming, Pieter, Pieter please as I put two bullet holes in his knees. I shut it down, went quiet, but I was thinking and mumbling. Do you understand? These things need to be said, lines drawn, boundaries set. Anything short opens the landscape to attack from the rotten little bastards, they will cut your throat, and steal your XRP.

    I hear my grandson has been caught saying all that shit to his older sister and younger brother. Bless his heart.
    See what I’m saying?

    Anyway back to the tale I’m telling. after we were able to gain welcome into the inner sanctum, U.Hunts began to seem almost human, Such fun and a true trip, we were sometimes scared, always entertained and I suggest under spell. The insane man had two old, huge steamer trunks that I suspect were left over from the Ellis Island journey he made with my paternal Grandparents and his brother and sisters from Norway. The trunks had big locks none of us kids could ever jimmy or break, but in his absence we sure tried.

    The only entrance into those mystical chest where through the broken fingers of my U, Hunt’s magical hands. Even then only a little was ever revelled. A bayonet that he welded like a wand to recreate hand to hand battles, showing scars he received in those fights as he pantomimed the moves he made to survive and vanquest his foe. A rifle with a short clip by today’s standards, boots and leggings, add a beat down helmet. All geared up, dressed up over a pair of boxer shorts and a wife beater tee shirt, prepared to tilt, any and all windmills. My dear sweet Don Q. I would of been his Sancho in a heartbeat. We were scared, entertained, and spellbound.

    One day I caught my U.Hunts alone, I got to bitching about, I need some money. Could he give some? I ducked the swing an absoebed the cussing. Then came real magic. I don’t care who you are or what you think you know. What I’m about to tell you is real, honest to God magic.

    U. Hunts gave me a hard as nails look and then reached into one of his treasure chests, I can hear the hinges squeaking to this very day, he dug in and came out with a shoeshine box, one of those self contained types, a bit worse for wear, but all there, everything, polish, brushes, rags, a place to hide money. I didn’t know it at the time but upon reflection, I without hesitation titled that SSbox, grail.

    Grail is big title for a small box of wood and craft half full of polish, some brushes and rags. I won’t bore you with the wax on, wax off all ninjas must endure. But more to the mind set, sure I could shine shoes. My U.Hunts had many pairs of shoes, come to find out when he wasn’t laid up in recovery mode he was something of a hustler, player, pimp, part time prize fighter plus a retired race car driver. Years later when I would ask my Dad about all that bullshit, he would only say that U. Hunts could drive

    “You need a gig” is what he would say. “What the hell is a gig? I did ask. Come to find out to a ‘gig for some was just a open, no more than a hello. That wasn’t going to work with U.H, he was a magic man. I like to think I came up with the pitch, but in hindsight I must consider it was bottle fed me, word by word, action by action. It was to perfect. It had closer writ all over it. What part of it was really mine? I will never know. What I do know, once I polished it, shoesines were mine. Off to the taverns we go.

    “Hey Mister (open)
    You sure look neat. (repore)
    What about your feet (close)
    Your shoes need a shine (close)
    I do a good one for a dime”(close)

    I do a three step jig (close)

    the gig is a hard close

    I never qualify, that’s bullshit, we are a half lazy, an the other half a crazy bunch, so against my training, I do over and under qualify, consequently I have blown tons of sales. I learned the don’t qualify lesson soon after I’d been working it for a week or ten days. U.H. was playing cards and losing badly. I was bugging him as kids will do. What magic next, “Don’t bother me you little S.O.B., go shine some shoes.” I said I already shined all the shoes in here that needed a shine. “Bullshit” he said, What about those guys over there in suits?” I said ” they got brand new shoes, wingtips, Florsheims, new shoes like that. I got the swallow you whole back. So I ventured over, did the gig, first two turned me down the third said ” sure go ahead son.” The good man gave me a quarter and opened up a new vista for me. If they are in your space in your place they are your customers. After stern advice I started hitting on queers, the fancy fuckers, “some of those guys will ask you if you will suck their dicks for five bucks while your kneeled down between there legs.” smiled my darling hero, U.H.. “Fuck that I ain’t gonna let them make a queer out of me.” I said. U.H says he “isn’t so sure sucking a queers dick for five bucks can make a person queer. What he is sure of, is that it will make me five bucks.” The whole table erupts in insane laughter. I’m mad as hell thinking to myself if I wanted to put up with this shit I could of been a alter boy. It only took me a few moments to realize the joke was on me, there was no way on God’s green earth that my U.H. or any of his crew would ever allow me to be put in a bad way.

    Still danger at every turn, them bulldikes, you just got to see them from a kids point of view. Stout looking bitches, all dressed and groomed somewhat the same. Dyed jet black hair styled into a ducktail, flannel or denim long sleeved shirts, jeans and black engineer boots. With their most beautiful girlfriends perched on their bar stools, petite and with extreme posture, looking like exotic birds set on a wire for bait. How to sell those fuckers, if you even want to. I do. U.H. steps up with more magic, don’t dance for them, they will lose respect. Walk proud, look them in the eye, and ask if they would like you to shine their boots “sir”. It worked, sometimes, not always, I already knew it was a numbers game. They were in my space they were in my place, they were my customers. I was glad to have them, good tippers.Years later when I working “Cracker” country, other so called sales people wouldn’t touch them, they were my meat, they were my potatoes. They were my customers. It was a affair.

    The original break out did not last long, four, five months. As soon as my matriarcrical Grandmother found out I was running in those hot joints,shining them shoes with my crazy U.H., the kibosh came down. It wasn’t like I was out after dark or during school days. I hustled a bit on friday after school, and most of the saturday, never on a sunday. The narrative was if I think I need money and want a job, I could get a paper route like any other kid. I did, delivering that Milwaukee Journal seven days a week and only making a quarter of what I could make running the road with U.H. it all but broke me. Thank goodness it wasn’t much longer we hauled ass from WI to AZ. I soon discovered living on route 66 offered a whole new road for hustle.

    What happened to Dear U.H.? A few years later my Father braved the task of informing me that he had died. He was found frozen on a park bench in downtown Chicago, dead as a doornail. At first I was devastated, until my wise and kind Mother informed me that he went out like the big cat that he was. I understand the last sound he made, was a howling MEEEOOOWWW, as they used a speed saw to cut his frozen ass off that bench. Fuckin’ Polaks, I love ’em.



      1. Rockin’ redjon, Thanks man.

        I followed the link Dane provided to Coil. I’ve found the five bucks. I’m looking for the courage.

        1. Lol. I’ve been using it for a while now. Not had any issues so far. I will say that when I log in to POM at home I have to log into Coil there for it to pay out. As long as I use the home pc to interact with POM or other Coil sites that one login keeps valid. But if I log in from another pc then I have to log into Coil on that pc for it to payout. Again that one login remains valid from that pc until I either log it out or log in from another pc. One other caveat is that I don’t think Coil works on the phone yet. If so I haven’t found a way.

  4. My Good Man Dane

    Yeah I know, I admit the “Solve et Coagula” could be construed as a ‘ask’ to close the site. However in your wisdom I interpet you saw beyond that. Sometimes a strong closer line requires a degree of challenge, with another degree of advice.

    Please allow me to attempt to explain. Sometimes I wish I could take my sales hat off and just burn it, Alas I can’t.

    Writer’s block, and a salesman’s slumps, may have somethings in common, burnout, pitch gone stale. Both death sentences for a salesman, same product, same pitch just a degree off and the customer picks up the fact that your heart just isn’t in it, no sale.

    After trying all the tricks a salesman’s bag has in it, a last resort is the ‘give away,’ give up your comish. Make the product so attractive the customer can’t refuse. Damn, even then, sometimes they do say no. Whence the saying “I can’t even give it away.” The sales gods, why are they so cruel? I always advise, stay in the game, the spirits will soon enough find themselves a sunny day and a spot in the shade for you. After all salesmanship, prostitution, and writing are each included in positions of honor. It could be argued endlessly which was the most noble, or esteemed. Age, first on the block, switch ’em up, bat ’em about, put them in the order you prefer. I’m going with salesmanship, who would of thunk.

    It is my opinion JC puts out perfect content, his ideas are mind blowing and his writing skill is technically perfect, as far as I can tell, but then judging by my writing tech, I am bold to even offer a opinion on that.

    My writing tech is crap, I know it, I know everybody on the POM knows it. Yet never, not ever, not one single time has anybody on the POM made a comment about it. Not a single Nazi, not word about spelling, punctuation, misuse of words, sentence structure, run on, run off, run right over the top of sentences, paragraph delineation, story line flaws, anything. Not a single Nazi here not one. God bless the POM.

    If you think think I was asking the one place that I’m provided complete freedom, and comfort to in my own crude way to exercise my frustrated writers desires, to shut down, think again. You would just be wrong, and I know your not. You saw through me and I suggest your comment was designed to further the conversation.

    Before I go on, allow me to say, when I’m building a true story, welllll, at least it’s true they are stories. I don’t just hit a zone I achieve a higher dimension. When my muses are hitting on all eight, you can find me in silence hunched over my keyboard, with a double dose of morphine in me, a constantly half full water glass of wis, a cig fouling my lungs and burning my eyes, depositing ashes on the keyboard, floor and sometime the ashtray. Slippage. Give up the platform that grants me this level of beyond satisfaction, closer to fulfillment. Well yeah, you do know better.

    BTW Dane, always I thank you for all you do for the POM.

    I’m a well satisfied customer even with JC posting once a month, that’s his biz. The type of content he produces must require a higher degree of soul searching than a less casual site would.

    What I was saying is that you sometime have to give up your comish for a little while. That’s tough for a salesman because he is normally broke at this point. Still it is a ‘trick’ that in some strange reversed way, sometimes works. It is always ‘sometimes’ in a salesman’s world, always a numbers game. Acting in reverse from a salesman’s point of view it sometimes relieves the pressure, takes the edge off the exhibiting of your presentation. Your not throwing in the towel, your just saying sort of kind of, ‘fuck it’. Your still talking to people, your still in the game. Sometimes it doesn’t work and you get fired for non-performance, (bringing down the team). Hock your watch get drunk, find a different job and or product, start anew. That’s never hard, jobs abound for those who will work for nothing, make a few sales, that’s what salesman do. At least one that puts his ass on the line for a comish only position. Then you can tell yourself, now that’s better, I’m back. HAHAHA

    I’m not saying the POM is in anyway near last resort status. But I’m not at all embarrassed to say I do miss the livelyer days. In closing, that’s what do, I’ll just say, I personally would gladly pay JC 5X the current price. Now wait a minute, maybe not. LOL


    1. lmao. See that’s what friends do for each other pal. We carry each other through the tough spots. I for one love your writings Peter and all the character they have within them. Besides for those of us who read beyond the words and into the spirit of the story we see pictures not words, and I must say yours are packed with some pretty awesome pictures my friend. I’m dry and lack that sense of laughter most of the time and you remind me to find that again. Your an integral part of my growth and I thank you for that.

      I knew you would see what I meant and you nailed my intent and totally got what was behind the words. I wonder if a salesman’s slump is because the salesman loses faith in what he is selling. Could a writer’s block be similar? What would a writer lose faith in though? Himself or herself? Hmm, good question but I really don’t have the answer. I just know that sometimes….well I just don’t have anything to say. If writing is an outlet could that mean that life is…just doing so good that there’s nothing to let out?

      Sometimes silence is the noise of the universe within. 😉

      Glad to have you as a friend Peter. POM is our XRP, it is the bridge of our thoughts and words…it connects the walled gardens of our minds.

    2. By George I think I’ve stumbled into it Peter…

      One of the most fundamental natural laws…

      8. Periodicity – for every period of activity there must follow a period of inactivity.

      1. Dear Dane
        I see JC has a new post, I’m excited to read it. I’m going to reserve myself until I at least attempt to answer your very intriguing triple barreled set of questions.

        I’m going to be careful here. I’ve examined myself closely, but I don’t have eyes for my back, and the mirror I’m using to see it is it is out of a fun house.

        When I made the analogy of writer’s block to a salesman’s slump, I was hoping to address a cue I believed I picked out of this paragraph from the post.

        “One is not meant to walk backwards upon the path of progression. No more than a writer can keep telling the same story with different words. Once a story is told the transmutation is complete. I have told my story of XRP transmutation and can no longer dwell in this world. This world. What worlds may come?”

        Always at risk is a word, sentence, paragraph taken out of context. But where does it end? Chapter, book, body of work?

        Point is I thought I read a degree of frustration in that paragraph and thought I could offer an idea up. Was it rude? Was it crude? HELLO !! Who do you think your talking to here? Professor Peter? Hahaha, fuck me running, LOL.

        Is JC out of things to say? Not by a long shot. Not his style, not his propose. Considering the state of the world today it may even be time to look up toward the skies and see if we can spot some double headed eagles soaring above. I know when they shit, it’s payday.

        Love this line of yours.

        “Glad to have you as a friend Peter. The POM is our XRP, it is the bridge of our thoughts and words…it connects the walled gardens of our minds”

        Now then I’m off to read the wizard, see you there.

        All Ways

        1. Hahaha, you don’t have to look over your shoulder here my friend.

          Maybe we are just getting (me long ago) frustrated and tired of helping people see the value of investment with XRP. Most don’t have the patience to just set it aside and forget about it while it grows into what we all know it will become.

          In the twitterverse I see peoples desperation in the tweets that keep asking the same question just in different ways. I see them like the zombies in the movie WWZ when they are climbing the wall around Israel ( https://youtu.be/KpIpuuW4qUQ?t=35 ). Mindless, frantic greed zombies who are hellbent on spreading and infecting the calm and knowing with their fear, uncertainty and doubt. Unfortunately there is no cure for their disease and that realization within myself and perhaps JC and many others has taken its toll and its just time to let them wallow in their own FUD. The coin will be what the coin will be. The sad part is the realization that so many people cannot rise above the mindless control of their material emotion.

  5. I ask myself something with Bitcoins has been pushing me towards understanding a form of invisible money floating about the internet superhighway, How can u trust a non human connection in a non enterprise run by software applications, What is wrong with this??I must go too my deep thought too even trust this manipulation of the dollar!!!!called coins and at that Good night all,and be responsible not animal.lol

  6. Hi ,

    As always , I’m late reading and reacting to JC ‘s posts .
    It take me times and reflexion to understand a part of the message behind words , as this is not my mother tongue . And I’m not always able to discern where I find myself between the different states of my own mind .
    What I know is that my soul is in a fortress , my own fortress , from where it can escape , from time to time with the help of a book , some notes of music , my wife and/or a very few friends , people who have the key codes to deep dive within myself . They are the triggers .
    Otherwise I’m always struck between emotional and rational parts of my terrestrial body .
    Trying to do my best , but not that easy……

    Now , about materiality, or the tale of XRP and the crypto-world .
    Don’t really know where we are , except that blockchain and crypto technologies will be part of our future . Period. No way around , just a question of time .
    Time to digest the last Bitcoin bubble , to let the dust and excesses settle down and give a clear view about the financial and geopolitical transmutation occuring right in front of our eyes., so close that we cannot see it . Very often most of us , including myself , are not able to see the wood for the trees , because there’s too much noise surrounding us .
    I do believe in Ripple and XRP , as I believe in some other cryptos , but I think that the rise of cryptos will not happen as long as there is not some big cracks in the actual monetary world.
    What I see for the moment is the beginning of stabilisation in cryptos , with the leadership of bitcoin , which , in my view is not the best way for cryptos to start a new upleg .
    But wait , this is just my opinion , nothing more .
    Whatever , cryptos like EOS and ETH are starting to elevate , and will maybe able to cross the basic Weinstein EMA’s , kind of sine qua none conditions to give some strenght and establish a definitive price floor to the crypto world .
    Time will tell . Speculative money has been burnt , and conditions are improving . Dream is over , place to reality. Electronic and digital realities……

    Pieter ,

    Just want to say that , just like Dane , I see a lot of pictures trough your words ! Comics , movie and real pictures …. Don’t change !

  7. oh my god, my third eye opened. I spend last 4 years struggling putting the world puzzle together. I will start to educate whom I know. Thank you!

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