Tag Archives: Thoughts

Psychology Phenomena {9} ~ Pratfall Effect

In social psychology, the pratfall effect is the tendency for interpersonal appeal to change after an individual makes a mistake, depending on the individual’s perceived competence. In particular, highly competent individuals tend to become more likable after committing mistakes, while perceived average seeming individuals tend to become less likable even if they commit the same mistake.

Originally described in 1966 by Elliot Aronson, numerous studies have since been conducted to isolate the effects of gender, self-esteem, and blunder severity on change in appeal and likability. Occasionally referred to as the blemishing effect when used as a form of marketing, generalizations of the pratfall effect are often used to explain the counterintuitive benefits drawn from making mistakes.

Guest Posts {30} ~ Poem Muse ~ Nano Thoughts Collections {2}

~This is a guest post from Vishnupria ~ vishnupria.wordpress.com~

The three dimensional space,
with the universal key access the inner core,
resides beyond the withdrawal and changeable oscillation of thoughts,
hold the eternal bow and pull the wisdom arrow to target the knowledge of awareness,
where mindfulness is judged by the veracity of passing emotions,
through the dissolution of time and space,
trace the fifth dimension abodes,
which seamlessly flows in altered states of experience,
at the deepest level singularity reverberates with ever ending glory,
with the aim transfixed the trigger released and thence the self is enlightened forever.
@vishnupria

~To see more of this writer’s work ~ Vishnupria.wordpress.com~

~To guest post feel free to share over your post by going to this blog’s connect page to find my email~

Poetry {162} ~ RAW

I know you know what it feels like to be in utter despair and pretend you’re in repair

Each passing day decimating by the millisecond, crushing the bones of every molecule in this physical bodily existence

Melancholia greys the lenses of perception

Each toke sinks me further into scattered fragments of the Self left around the world, trauma splattered across the continent

Still unresolved after attempt after attempt to heal

A baby pure soul tumbled into a mess

I crave and hunger for the days when there was a baseline normal

When I knew I was safe in my own temple

When I kept myself away from the other students of Spirit on this planet, away so no one could hurt me again; in that way that slowly breaks you piece by piece and you don’t really know what’s going on because you’re just a child, always sighted in seeing the pure in people which stung, stung to the depths of hell, when the trap door opens again to reveal another dimension of hell. The hell you created unknowingly, partially knowingly

When will things get better? They say it will, yet it doesn’t, not yet, there’s still something left that knows to live

Pretending or self-protectioning to act straight when you’re bending in ways you never knew existed, snapped into the ashes of cremation dust

Years of ideation to live another day

An endless sleep, sleep feels safer than reality sometimes, maybe we’re already asleep

Cannot take pharaceuticals drugs, yet they take the delight to a slight tendency to hook young ones for the health

“We’re here to help, remember,” comes a gasping response

Where’s the stealth?

Slice me open until there is nothing left I once said

Self-love whispering between the cracks in the psyche’s worn out shed

Swamped by the crowds, more lonely and cut open than ever

This world

Conscience flesh haunts my nightmares and daydreams

Or is it the menstrual hormone arrows floating in the hope streams

My breath slips away on crimson puddles that stain my thoughts

Numbness I used to fight with pain has morphed into a nauseating depth I want to fill with a soothing translucent blue to drown out the feeling

Into Greece’s crystal shimmering sunsets and love-state dreams

Where reality was play and lived all the same, unknowingly a child in God’s grand tapestry game

The way you suffer is completely felt to you, no one can ever hurt like you, weep like you, die like you. in it’s singularity

There is, at the very least, awe for its chameleon-like nature

If there is beauty and love and gentleness in a wound, it is that it is distinct somehow knowingly yet mentally a dual confliction, the pain feels real, is it real or is my ego convincing me yet again, hiding in plain sight is the blinding light

Haven’t we been here before?

Do you have moments where you can’t imagine a future?
You’re lying there staring at the
Same walls
Same ceilings
Same words
With nothing but the same feelings-
Empty and pale
Like there’s no reason to go on

The future is simultaneously unfolding in the moments
Paining the imagining of yourself in the framework
Where then you just want to stop
Everything
And just sit there for a while, maybe not forever, but something close to it
When you feel like there’s a rope around your neck

Is it just depression or is it the loneliness
when you don’t know but you know, you can’t continue to feel this way

There is a reason water is clear, and blood is crimson, for it would be far too painful to try and see the truth in your veins

Caged up wild delirious animal

Stagnant, though I’ve reflected all this progress

But the truth is lost
In 7.8 billion
Who have had enough
And you may know souls

I’ll never forget waking up from a coma, covered in my own soul mess, I hoped I would be going to my myself, eyes wide and glassy, only able to repeat “I want to live now” yet it wasn’t there.. “Love is the answer,” I raised and whispered slipping into hypnotic, to the astral planes

I felt the taste of death in my own mouth, at my own hand

And at that moment I understood that I was not going to live forever, some may not contemplate or realize that, but when you do, your whole life can or will change

Or at least some fractal of you that isn’t numb, believes and still believes

Always believe

Acredita.

~DiosRaw, 02/09/21

Guest Posts {24} ~ Nano Thoughts {5}

~This is a guest post from Vishnupria ~ https://vishnupria.wordpress.com

The darkness is encapsulated within cosmic space,

Many sheltered inside the infinite place,

Quenched to reciprocate from your gaze,

Lightning echoes through the maze,

Seizes the seeker of mortal face,

Into the mysterious black hole glaze!

@vishnupria

~To see more of this writer’s work ~ https://vishnupria.wordpress.com

~To guest post feel free to share over your post by going to this blog’s connect page to find my email.~

~CANDLELIGHT FLOURISHING~

Let go of the focus on darkness, start lighting candles. A candle is something which aids people to see reality more truthfully. Plant those seeds in the subconscious of all the energies we intertwine with. The best thing you can do for the world is to become a candle. And the more light we can create as a unified consciousness, the less devils will flourish in our midst, for devils can only thrive in the shadows. For the shadows are us, separation is an illusion, send love to the darkness, recognise the duality delusion. ~ DiosRaw

Short Stories {3} ~ Paradox Diffusion

Years after searching for God in psychedelics, Rumi had not wavered in her quest for knowledge. Without the benefit of a prescribed social role, she did what she wanted, when she wanted, which was to learn without regard for convention. Today, paradoxes were circulating around her mind, determined, she would not sleep without finding her answer.

At other times and in other places, Rumi would have been burned at the stake, hailed as a prophet, or stoned. The present time simply ignored her. Normal people treated Rumi as a public garbage can, light post, or stalled car, as an obstacle that could be moved but numbed by her surroundings.

“Take your pills NOW,” shouted the nurse down the corridor, from Texas’s renound mental hospital for the “insane.” Rumi rolled her eyes as Nurse Truchin’s sharp voice echoed and bounced off blood stained walls, she was sitting in room 23, her white washed room “gifted” to her by her parents, they could not cope with her cosmic mind anymore. Rumi had been in Senora Texas Mental Hospital for two weeks and she felt on edge, this was her first time in an asylum. Rumi paced up and down her abode, she had to take those dreaded sleeping pills or else they would force it down her throat somehow. Reluctantly she calmly walked down the hallway and was handed her pill through the dorms pill shutter.

Rumi swallowed the pill. “Good, now go back to your room, checks are at 11pm, make sure you are in your bed or you know what will happen,” said Nurse Truchin coldly. Rumi said nothing, she would achieve nothing by responding and quietly returned to her room blocking out the screams from the room beside her’s.

Shutting her door, relieved, she lay on her bed staring at the white washed walls that had become her friend. What were paradoxes? How could two opposing propositions exist at the same time? The sleeping pills were making her more and more drowsy. Lonely and with a heavy heart she pulled the duvet above her head. “A paradox is a statement or problem that either appears to produce two entirely contradictory (yet possible) outcomes, or provides proof for something that goes against what we intuitively expect,” Rumi reiterated inside of her mind.

Hallucinating as she usually did on these pills, she saw imagery quite like her visions on magic mushrooms a few months ago. Warping geometric patterns danced in a trance with eachother as her eyes flickered going in and out of consciousness.

I will sleep on this Rumi decided in her mind drifting off into the astral planes.

Upon awakening her answer had arrived, getting out her notebook she wrote “Paradoxes lead you to God.”

On her day of release, after all this time pretending to act normal to get out of this hell hole of an asylum, Rumi saw Mrs. Truchin as “insane” and Mrs. Truchin saw Rumi as insane. Rumi quietly knew that duality breaks down into formless consciousness; she was sane in an insane world.

“I know one thing,” Rumi said to Mrs. Truchin as she left the asylum doors. “And that is that I know nothing.” Rumi remembered studying ancient Greek philosopher’s such as Socrates years ago. Mrs. Truchin took one bewildered look at Rumi and walked away. Rumi smiled to herself and smelt freedom once again, her taxi was awaiting to pass through the doors into the insane world.

Time is a construct of consciousness and in higher dimensions has no meaning. but, in the lower dimensions it is used to measure changes and in the multitudes of parallel timelines all simultaneously existing. Paradoxes melt into the all, Source, Brahman, Allah, whatever name you stamp onto formless ether.

~DiosRaw 01/04/21

Guest Posts {20} ~ Nano Thoughts {2}

~This is a guest post from Vishnupria ~ https://vishnupria.wordpress.com

The virtue of life plays sound with a cacophony of immaturity,

Forever illumines glitter of the lord and remain silence on its purity,

Sleepless tosses and turns underground where inner reaction fears the insecurity,

Hail an active observer on the ground by escaping the phony posterity,

Thus, gloats the macro cosmic vitality!

~To see more of this writer’s work ~ https://vishnupria.wordpress.com

~To guest post feel free to share over your post by going to this blog’s connect page to find my email.~