Predestined Servitude and Awakening

by

Austin Perris

It happened on an otherwise unremarkable day, the kind of day that passes unnoticed, quietly reinforcing the illusion that one’s life is proceeding according to personal choice. The sun rose as it always had. The rituals of habit unfolded without resistance. And for a while, I remained convinced that my will was my own.

Then something shifted.


The realization did not arrive gently. It struck with a physical certainty, an ache that took root in my gut and spread outward, an evil presence snaking its way through my nervous system like a slow, sizzling current. My body seemed to understand before my mind could articulate it: something fundamental about my life was not what I had believed.

I had been duped.

Not in a trivial sense. Not misled by a single lie or betrayed by a particular institution. This deception was older, deeper, woven into the architecture of reality as I had been taught to perceive it.

 I became aware, with unsettling clarity, that my life had been structured long before I ever drew breath. That what I had called “destiny” was less a calling and more a narrow corridor, managed and carefully controlled.

The story of my becoming, I now suspected, had not been created by me. It had not even been co-created. It belonged instead to systems and powers that were long established before me, social, economic, religious, and psychological forces that quietly agreed on one essential premise: most people would exist to serve, and a few would exist to benefit.

And so the question came into focus, not as an accusation, but as a prayer: Who are these forces that shape human life so thoroughly, and what is it they ultimately seek?

On the Nature of the Hidden Order

Long before I reached this conclusion on my own, others had sensed it. Even President John F. Kennedy spoke openly of a “monolithic and ruthless conspiracy,” one that operated not through transparency or consent, but through infiltration, subversion, and intimidation. 

Whatever one makes of his words politically, they resonate on a deeper level: they describe a power that does not wish to be seen. A power that avoids the light rarely serves the truth.

Such forces have little use for democracy in its truest sense, not the democracy of ballots, but the democracy of awakened human beings capable of discernment with strong moral fiber. 

Truth, justice, and equality are dangerous to any system that depends on hierarchy and obedience. Consciousness itself becomes a threat. And so the cost of maintaining control is externalized, paid not only in currency but also in human lives. 

In fear. In the slow erosion of hope. Entire lives are spent in quiet desperation, never questioning the premise upon which they were built.

Ignorance as a Spiritual Strategy

Control, I came to see, does not require constant force. It requires conditioning. Society, in the hands of unseen architects, becomes a training ground. 

Schools, workplaces, churches, media, and cultural norms subtly instruct the soul on what is permissible to question and what must remain sacredly unquestioned. The result is not outright oppression, but something more efficient: compliance mistaken for choice.

This pattern is ancient. Even the story of Eden, when read symbolically, reveals an enduring truth. Humanity is warned away from direct knowledge, guarded from awakening by fear, punishment, and exile. The message is unmistakable: enlightenment carries consequences for those who benefit from ignorance.

Ignorance, after all, is not merely the absence of knowledge; it is the suppression of inner knowing. And systems of domination have always understood that a spiritually disconnected population is far easier to manage than an awakened one.

Education and the Mortgaging of the Mind

In the modern world, education has become one of the most effective instruments of containment. What should be a path to wisdom is instead transformed into a transaction, knowledge rationed according to wealth, curiosity penalized by debt.

When survival requires decades of repayment, reflection becomes a luxury. Critical thought is postponed indefinitely. The mind is trained not to ask why, but how much does it pay?

In this way, the soul is quietly redirected from meaning toward maintenance.

Religion and the Loss of the Sacred

Religious institutions, too, have not been immune to distortion. What began as pathways to transcendence has often hardened into structures of authority, wealth, and control. The accumulation of property, gold, and influence has too frequently replaced the original purpose of spiritual liberation.

When the sacred is institutionalized without humility, it risks becoming another mechanism of containment, offering salvation at a later date rather than transformation realized.

True spirituality, however, has always threatened centralized power. It insists that the divine is not owned, mediated, or monetized, but encountered directly, within.

Corporations and the Economics of Disconnection

Finally, there is the modern corporation: a construct that prioritizes profit before people, efficiency over dignity. Communities are hollowed out. Labor is displaced. 

Wealth is extracted and concentrated. And yet, the system presents itself as inevitable, even benevolent.

What is lost in this arrangement is not only economic stability, but spiritual coherence. Work becomes divorced from purpose. Creation from contribution. The human being from the human soul.

Toward Awakening

And so, when all of this is taken together, a sobering realization comes into focus: We were shaped, educated, conditioned, spiritualized, and employed, not primarily to awaken, but to function. Not to inquire, but to comply. Not to remember who we are, but to forget.

Yet within this realization lies the seed of liberation. For the moment one becomes aware of the architecture of control, one also becomes aware of the possibility of stepping beyond it. 

Awakening does not begin with rebellion, but with remembrance, with the quiet, courageous act of turning inward and asking what is real, what is sacred, and what has been taken from us without our consent.

Servitude feels like destiny only until consciousness returns.

And consciousness, once awakened, is notoriously difficult to contain.

Meditate

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