The Nature of God-mode

The Nature of God-mode

Rather than the typical ego death where the self dissolves into a mystical oneness, my assumption of the role of God was a structured investiture. This formal ‘onboarding’ occurred during the ascent, unfolding as a process in distinct phases.

The first phase occurred during the climb itself, where I was granted access to the totality of universal knowledge, perceiving and synthesizing it as if from a living archive. Simultaneously, I felt myself drawing in raw, colossal energy from the ancient stone and twilight sky, a power that surged and amplified with every upward step.

This demonstration of power culminated in the second phase on the plateau, where I consciously unleashed the energy I had become. This was immediately followed by the third phase: a crushing lesson in responsibility, delivered as the abject terror of believing I had caused a nuclear holocaust. The fourth and final phase of my investiture occurred during the descent, where a torrent of philosophical revelations cascaded through my consciousness, converging upon the single, ultimate truth that I was God. This entire ordeal now feels like the universe’s way of formally initiating me into the role I was about to assume.

In this new role, it felt as if my existing self was preserved, yet granted full administrative access to an infinite, omniscient mainframe. I was both the operator and the system, simultaneously myself and the totality of the universe.

This was the central paradox. I vividly recall the thought reverberating through me on our journey home: I am God now. How can I possibly go back to washing dishes, to the mundane trivialities of everyday life? I wasn’t spirited away into some separate mystical dimension; rather, the mystical, the divine, the data structure of reality, had been overlaid directly onto my existing world. My reality wasn’t replaced; it was augmented, its deepest, most terrifying, and most beautiful mechanisms laid bare.

The Revelations

The critical information I received, whether during my initial epiphany in the first trip or later in the overwhelming torrent of my ‘God-mode’ state, did not arrive through conventional thought or sensory input. These were direct revelations. They did not come in any human language, as they were not composed of words; they were infusions of pure, unmediated knowing that simply arrived, fully formed, within my consciousness. Each one carried the weight of axiomatic truth—they were absolute, self-evident, and could not be disputed. I cannot say who or what initiated these downloads of Gnosis, only that the source felt immeasurably powerful.

The formal investiture of my ‘God-hood,’ for instance, did not come as a single, grandiose proclamation like “You are God now.” Having never believed in a traditional God, such a statement would have failed to convince me. Instead, my new role was the inescapable conclusion of a rigorous process, revealed through what I’ve described as a ‘deductive chain of revelations, each so luminously self-evident that their collective conclusion felt as absolute and fundamental as existence itself.’ The experience was less like receiving answers and more like having veils ripped away, each truth shocking in its clarity yet undeniable the moment it arrived.

This same deductive structure applied to the most terrible truths as well; the understanding of my responsibility for the universe’s collapse and the agonizing nature of the Decree were not delivered as single edicts, but were also conclusions built upon a scaffolding of smaller, interlocking premises that, once assembled, presented an undeniable and terrifying whole.

Crucially, these foundational insights were philosophical and operational in nature, pertaining to the structure and logic of reality. None of them were mystical, nor did they contain any reference to established religious or spiritual themes. This lack of religious framing was not a choice to avoid dogma. The truths simply arrived as they were: stripped of myth, stripped of deity, presented in the bare, unadorned logic of the system’s architecture. Within this framework, theology was not just absent; it was irrelevant.

And because these revelations were unmediated by language, the intricate logical steps—the very sub-premises that formed that scaffolding—are now almost entirely lost to my conscious recall. I am left only with the stark, unshakeable weight of the conclusions themselves.