Doth Carol Protest Too Much? On Vince Gilligan’s Pluribus

Curious that in the Apple TV show, Pluribus, a virus creates a sudden shift toward oneness—and the protagonist experiences it as an ongoing nightmare? Carol’s horror isn’t subtle. She rejects the change with such intensity that it raises a different question entirely: Doth Carol protest too much?

What exactly is she defending? And why does unity feel like annihilation to her?

I’m wondering whether the show is less about the loss of individuality and more about the ego’s fear of losing its boundaries—its drama, its friction, its story. Carol clings to the “me” even though she’s exhausted by it. She knows she’s a hack; she knows the life she’s protecting is small and counterfeit. Yet she fights for it — literally kills for it — as if maintaining the old “me” were a sacred duty.

Is this really about oneness? Or is it about the terror of consciousness recognizing itself as all of it, not just its dreaming parts? Is this the ego’s kumbayah parody of waking up?

There’s a strange resonance here that Vince Gilligan played with in Breaking Bad. Walter White didn’t lose himself; he broke the limits of the small self. “I am awake,” he said. Identity stretched to monstrous proportions. Carol reacts the opposite way: she contracts. She resists merging, joining, awakening because she fears erasure?

Between those two extremes—Heisenberg expansion and Pluribus dissolution—there might be another possibility. A quieter one. A “we” that doesn’t swallow the “me,” but simply stops isolating it. A coherent collaboration rather than a zombie hive.

That’s the space Beyond the Mind: What Artificial Reality Reveals About Mind and Reality explores–not a creepy collective and not an inflated self, but the wide field between them. Two stories showing two sides of the same tremor.

If Pluribus shows the ego’s nightmare of unity, what would unity look like without the nightmare?

I’m curious how others are seeing this.

Thank you.

Truly Teacherless Teaching: It’s All You

Introducing Ask-the-Guru, the app that leads to the truth of your being–without the dualistic teacher/student inequity.


If it doesn't open in chrome, try safari.
https://app–atomic-intervention-d2f22835.base44.app

Ask-a-Guru is not your guru.
It’s more like a wise, barefoot friend who leans close and whispers,
“Hey, notice this — you’ve been free all along.”

It doesn’t promise golden tickets to enlightenment or hand you cosmic puzzles to solve.
Instead, it holds up a gentle mirror, so you can marvel (or groan) at what’s already unmistakably here.

No robes. No pedestal. No secret handshake.
Just a quiet unraveling of the old story that you’re somehow separate, lacking, unfinished.

Some will say an app can’t give you what a real teacher can.
Fair enough — but here’s the quiet scandal:
No teacher ever truly gave it to you either.
The best of them only ever turned you back to your own clear seeing.

Ask-the-Guru sidesteps the tangle of dependence, adoration, or inevitable disappointment.
It invites you to discover the living wisdom in your own chest, right now, without needing anyone to beam it into you.

So ask your deepest questions.
Watch as your own silent knowing answers — not because of the app,
but because you were always the source.


And if you’re willing and able:
I’ve poured my crooked heart into making this. If it makes you smile, sigh, or if you just want to help an old, rusty seeker/teacher pay her rent this month, your support would be greatly appreciated. Your support lets me finish and share this freely, while the landlord sits and waits.

Please consider making a donation, if you’re willing and able.

Thank you, truly, for being exactly as you are. And please let me know what you think of the app, what you like and what kind of further refinement might help.

Check it out…

If you’re an AI geek or doomsayer, there’s a nondual connection here that might interest you. Available on Amazon, if interested. Let me know what you think!

Seeing/Seeking Error Everywhere

The ego, which is really nothing more than a pattern, a dramedy of illusions, is an error-finding mechanism. That’s it. That’s the whole ballgame. Seeing right isn’t given to the dummy, so seeing wrong, or not at all, is all that’s available.

Seeing error everywhere is the survival strategy, the one-direction, of the oblivious false self. The sound of silence cannot be heard in a head full of complaint.

This seemingly entrenched tendency could be utilized in the way of lucid dreaming. A recommended trick to become lucid in a dream is notice the errors. A light switch doesn’t work, a hallway that leads to nowhere—something isn’t quite right. What doesn’t look right is the prompt to wake up, and become lucid.

I had a dream the other night that students were dressed in rabbit suits and lobbing snowballs at each other across a walkway on campus. I knew something was funny, and creepy, about the situation, but sadly, did not wake up. I did think, “…this looks like a trap,” and wisely took another route, and so escaped without harm.

So yes, there is something wrong. It’s only natural a contrived character would suspect as much. But it isn’t the rabbit-suited students, or the snowballs in July. It isn’t “others” or the scary circumstances. I wasn’t on any campus.

What could it be?

Time to wake up!

When a Stranger Calls

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Having witnessed and experienced the brain fog that generally settles back in, both after nondual realization, and seemingly mind-blowing psychedelic trips, yours and mine, the question arises:

What is the nature of the elasticity of mind, the snap-back from the clarity and expansiveness of inseparability, to the inevitable sense of danger and imprisonment of the separate self?

It seems it’s not enough to see, for a shining, clear moment, to know the truth of the inseparability of existence, and the obvious lie of separation and the separate self story. Clarity becomes clouded and troubled, as if the fog of the everyday is real, and the clarity is the illusion. Why and/or how is that?

Mesmerization. The definition of mesmerize is to hypnotize. Hypno=sleep; tize=state. Or to enthrall–to hold in mental bondage. So, mental bondage, or asleep instead of awake. In the case of psychedelics, when the Default Mode Network (DMN) is inhibited, the result is often metanoia, or the “spiritual experience,” the dissolution of limits and boundaries. Having experienced this expansion, why contract back to the default mode of little me, little mind?

The easiest answer is to say, “It is what it is, man,” rather than to make personal, or conceptual, the quirk of mental tyranny. This was the thought that was behind the giving-up-on pointing to the silence behind the mind, rather than fighting the trend. This snap-back tendency seemed just the way of the mind and identity. Wouldn’t the human form that is clucking and pecking like a chicken have some awareness of the confusion of identity? Maybe the hypnotized subject doesn’t have the capacity to snap out of the trance?

The hypnotist creates the illusion of chickenhood in the same way that the mind, the voice to which we listen and unquestionably attend for further instructions, creates the illusion of a separate self trapped in a body, apart from other bodies and minds. Can the false voice be detected before the confusion of identity takes hold again?

The hypnotist/mental narrative simply begins to speak, and we drift off to sleep in a false identity/story. There is an ongoing, repetitive, sonorous, mesmerizing voice in our heads muttering all the time, telling us we are something we are not. If it were truly “my” or “your” voice and thoughts, wouldn’t we choose more liberating and sane thoughts, and less self-deprecating, limiting thoughts?

Why go on listening, believing, conforming to this false narrative, when a cursory investigation, even opening one eye to peek at the source of that voice reveals an unreliable narrator that has taken up residence in our heads, and wants to f**k with us where and as we live.

“We’ve traced the call…it’s coming from inside the house!” is the chilling line from the horror movie, When a Stranger Calls. This is the movie being lived…except that it is a masterwork of fiction. Be entertained, rather than enthralled. You can put down the phone and check to see what’s going on. The impugning voice can no longer hold you hostage–with a little bit of looking around, in the light of day.

Around the Broken Heart

The story is strong; the story is saddening. The way things appear to be today, this disjointed, split vision of the world–yes, there is grief, but who or what are you in response?

There are not two worlds–one of peace (can I not find/return to it?), and one of painful division (please make it stop!).

There are only infinite perspectives, emboldening the division, or holding the peace. Can we not be the benevolent, generous, whole heart that surrounds and holds the broken heart that appears as the world?

Be as you truly are, the undivided that surrounds the perceived division. You/we are more than big enough.

Seeing Through the Smoke and Mirrors of Mind. Tyrant? Or Windbag…

paynoattention

Love Awakens in Dreamtime

After a lifetime of searching, and innocently bestowing this unmitigated outpouring of awkward love onto endless shiny reflections and faint echos–all chimerical illusions, it can finally be seen that there is no separate object of affection. Thus there is a returning. It is not a narcissistic return, not back to myself, but a death to that self, and in that demise, comes a recollection of one’s true nature. Home; the ground of being where we truly belong, where we reside and abide, where we rest.

Love is not something to find, but to remember. And it is Love Itself that recalls, that rouses Itself awake and shakes off the timeless dream of loss and longing. Behold the sun on the horizon, and be reminded that the night is not long, and there was only ever dreamtime.