25/12/2025
Are your cravings, behaviours, and ideas really your own?
The parasite does not lurk in the shadows. It hides behind your reflection, using your aspirations as a disguise. You believe you crave sweetness, power, or pleasure. But it is something inside you that craves, and it feeds with your hands. They do not control you with claws or curses. They provide you with convenience, and you appreciate it. One man realised what no one else dared to see: the battle for your soul takes place in your bloodstream, not in heaven or hell. Wayne Rowland did not merely find parasites in the body. He revealed the devils hidden behind them in his book 'Worms Are Killing You'. The true cage was built with appetite, not iron. You were trained to feed your captor and claim release. Inside every human being, there is a shadow colony of parasites, bacteria, and fungi, all competing for dominance within the warm cathedral of the body. They do not live with you. They exist through you. Their survival is dependent on your capitulation. They manipulate your hormones, hijack your neurotransmitters, and project their hunger onto your thinking. The craving you refer to as mine may not actually be yours. It might be an order from your stomach, given to your brain as a heavenly decree. Chemical signalling is how scientists refer to it. The ancient mystics called it possession. The language is new, but the story remains the same. An unseen intelligence permeates the living. And, even deeper, another reality hums beneath the microscope.
For thousands of years, spiritual books have depicted forces that attach to human emotion and beings that feed on fear, lust, and misery. The Gnostics called them Archons. The desert mystics dubbed them Djinn. The modern mentality refers to them as Demons. These are not metaphors. They are mechanisms for extraction. They consume your attention like parasites do your blood. Different planes, same hunger. And what if the uncomfortable notion is that the biological parasite is only the physical anchor of the metaphysical predator? Two aspects of the same intelligence, acting in both matter and spirit. Think about it. A worm in your colon stimulates your craving for sugar. You obey. The bloodstream is flooded with glucose. The worm feeds. Beyond the biological interaction, an energy current is formed. A vibration of weakness, dependence, and self-disgust. And from that frequency, something unseen gets its share. The parasite eats the body. The Demon consumes sadness. The system is perfect. You feed the thing that destroys you, and in the process, you forget who you are. Stay with me now. Because once you see how deep the invasion has gone, you will never eat food or think the same way again.
The battle for your freedom is not fought outside of governments or faiths. It takes place in the bloodstream, synapses, and dreams. The question is no longer about what you eat. The question is: what eats you? Parasites are not the intruders we think they are. They are strategists, ancient manipulators. Their survival is dependent on your grasp of chemistry. They emit neurotoxins that control your emotions, whispering to your nervous system like unseen hypnotists. You believe you need sugar, but it is actually the parasite seeking sustenance. You believe you are anxious, but the organism is stimulating cortisol to weaken your defences. You believe you are depressed, but this is their signal, suppressing the serotonin to slow you down so they can thrive longer within you. These animals are more than just passengers; they are puppeteers, and you, the host, are their marionette. Science has confirmed what they already knew. Parasites can influence the behaviour of their hosts. The toxoplasma parasite, for example, can make a rat fearless of the cat that will kill it, leading it straight to its own consumption. The parasite wins, the host obeys, and the cycle repeats. The same principle manifests in humans in the form of self-sabotage, addiction, diversion, and despair. You are drawn to what weakens you because something inside you benefits from your deterioration. However, this is where biology and metaphysics intersect once more.
For thousands of years, mystics have spoken about unseen beings who feed on human sorrow, devils that derive their energy from agony and obsession. When a person is consumed by fury, passion, or terror, their energy alters, their body contracts, their light dims, and the ancient books state that this is when they feast. Is it a coincidence that parasites and devils follow the same behavioural pattern? That both feed off of turmoil, manipulate desire, and thrive in decaying environments? Perhaps they are not two forces but rather one expressed in distinct spectrums of reality. The biological parasite spreads throughout the body. The demonic parasite acts on the psyche. The first eats your nourishment, while the second consumes your will. Together, they make the ideal closed system, flesh and spirit bound by the same hunger. And when you engage in what kills you, both delight. The parasite swells, the devil shines, and you confuse tiredness with pleasure. You call it comfort and release. But it is submission, a form of invisible enslavement created not by rulers in towers, but by ancient intelligences who understand one basic truth: control the host's desires, and you control the host's fate. So the question darkens.
When you reach for something you want, which hand moves first? When you think, "I want this," who is the one who speaks? Is it the human, the parasite, or something talking between them? Stay with me now. Because in order to see their true architecture, you must first understand the shadows behind the mirror, the beings that nourish not only your body but also your spirit. The ancients never separated biology and spirit. For them, the body was a gate, not a prison. Energies could enter and exit the system due to its vulnerabilities. Just as illness seeps into an open wound, every thought, emotion, and indulgence opens a door to which something always responds. They recognised that pollution in the body leads to defilement in the soul. The parasite in the gut and the devil in the psyche are identical reflections in the same black mirror. One is flesh, while the other is frequency. Consider the human body to be a temple of light and circuitry, a live vibratory transmitter. When harmony reigns, the river runs upward, awareness grows, and consciousness strengthens. However, when imbalance occurs due to greed, fear, or hatred, the current collapses, the vibration falls, and the feeders arrive at a lower resonance. They are drawn to degradation like vultures to carrion. Demons, parasites, or whatever you choose to call them, are vibration scavengers. Fasting was a ritual of warfare, not punishment, according to the ancient desert scrolls. These sorts, it was said, may only be expelled via fasting. Why? Fasting starves both the biological and energetic invaders. The body purges, the mind clears, the spirit increases in frequency, and the entities are unable to hold. It is not superstition; it is the physics of the unknown.
Modern science has only begun to map out what the mystics intuited. The gut, they argue, is the second brain, containing trillions of creatures that regulate emotion, memory, and even decision-making. The mystics would smirk and say, "We told you so." They were constantly aware that thought was permeable, that consciousness was not a fortress but a field. Parasites that modify hormones and desires are merely physical manifestations of finer forces, such as the archons of appetite, the djinn of desire, and the whisperers who form civilisation through the stomach and skin. Take a look at the environment we live in: every street is lined with inflaming food, numbing drinks, and hypnotising screens. This is not mere convenience; it is architecture, a planetary feeding system in which the human host voluntarily swallows its own chains. Every indulgence is a communion, every craving a modest surrender rite, and over time, the light of consciousness fades until a person forgets they were ever sovereign at all. If the body may act as a portal for darkness, it can also function as a vessel for light. However, in order to access that greater gate, one must first confront the infestation within, name it, see it, and begin the exorcism of both flesh and soul. Every revelation begins with a heretic—someone who refuses to accept the world's script as definitive.
Wayne Rowland's rebellion began not in a monastery or a laboratory, but in his dying body. He had tried every traditional remedy, taken every medicine, and followed every medical commandment, but his illness worsened. He felt possession more than disease, as if something unseen and unidentified was feeding on him. And so, in a state of fatigue and defiance, he issued a challenge to the world. $10,000 to anyone who can uncover the truth that medicine has buried. Only one individual responded. He spoke about frequencies rather than chemicals or operations. He said there were five lost technologies capable of dissolving sickness at its source. When Rowland requested the most potent of them, the guy handed him a schematic for a gadget that healed by sound, originally designed by a forgotten inventor named Royal Raymond Rife. It didn't cut or burn; it resonated. According to the creator, each disease vibrates at a certain frequency, which must be exactly matched. And the organism shatters, much like a crystal glass does under a perfect note. Rowland was sceptical. However, desperation has always served as a catalyst for discovery. For three months, he sat alongside the machine, its delicate tones humming through him, scarcely discernible, like the ghost of a melody from another life. Something slowly shifted. The ache subsided, and the exhaustion lifted. Even the arthritis that had hampered his hands began to subside. When his tests came back clear, he realised something extraordinary. The frequencies that treated him did not target his ailments; rather, they destroyed parasites. He looked into this further. The lead poisoning in his blood, he learnt, had provided an ideal breeding ground for parasites. Their trash had poisoned him from within. When the frequencies interrupted their vibration, they perished, while his body awoke.
The sickness did not vanish; rather, the puppeteer did. But the deeper he dug, the stranger things grew. He discovered medical documents from the 1800s that show doctors frequently deworming their patients with remarkable success. Dr Chase, a Chicago physician, reported treating cancer in 80% of his cases by just removing parasites. The proof was there, buried beneath a century of pharmaceutical noise. Humanity had known and forgotten the enemy. Roland's discovery sparked a much bigger question than medicine. If parasites can alter health so profoundly, what else can they do? Mood? Thoughts? Belief? Could it be that these miniscule entities were more than just creatures, acting as physical anchors for something sinister that needed them to survive? A biological basis for spiritual invasion? The frequencies that healed him were more than just science; they were an electrical exorcism. The tone represented the sword, vibration, and light. And through that resonance, Roland stumbled across the oldest enigma of all. That the cosmos is made up of frequencies, and that any imbalance, physical, mental, or spiritual, is simply a distortion of the song. Stay with me now, for if vibration can remove body parasites, what tone can eliminate spirit parasites? Before the industrial revolution, before medicine became a business, healing was more akin to alchemy. Doctors were not yet profit-driven priests; rather, they were observers of nature's hidden rules. In the 1800s, these physicians talked a language now known as superstition, a language of cleansing, fasting, and purging. They knew the adversary by name: parasites. The concept was simple yet devastatingly powerful. To heal the man, first remove the invader. Historical records tell stories of this lost wisdom.
In Chicago, Dr Chase documented what contemporary science still refuses to believe: an 80% cure rate for cancer by deworming alone. No radiation, no chemotherapy, no proprietary toxins, just the eradication of what was feeding on the host. Across Europe and America, the same pattern appeared. Wormwood, black walnut, and clove were common prescriptions. Each hospital had a deworming ward. Physicians recognised that practically all chronic diseases originated with internal contamination or a parasite imbalance. Then came the age of chemicals. The peaceful herbalist was replaced by the man with the syringe, and the fight against disease became a business. The shift was not an accident. As germ theory gained popularity, the parasite model became overshadowed by medications. Calling an illness infectious was profitable. The term "infested" was not appropriate. The parasite was eliminated from textbooks, its image reduced to a minor inconvenience for the poor. However, the body never forgot. The infestation persisted, buried beneath clinical terminology and insurance data. Why has this knowledge vanished? Perhaps because parasites cannot be patented. You can't sell what nature already provides for free. Garlic and fasting cannot be monetised. You cannot charge the soul for quiet. The remedy was too easy, too old, and too unprofitable. So it was mocked, obliterated, and sealed beneath the glittering banners of progress. And mankind, believing itself to be cured, inadvertently returned to the farm hosts once more, but this time to systems of commerce and consumption that resembled the parasites they had ignored. The old doctors warned that a parasite does not always manifest as a worm but rather as a concept, a belief that something external must save you, and a confidence that the system will treat you while feeding on your labour, anxiety, and submission. The metaphor became literal, and the literal evolved into myth.
But what if the buried science was not lost but only hidden? What if the vibrational principles that Rife uncovered were the missing link between traditional medicine and current metaphysics? Frequency, fasting, and herbs are not ancient rituals; rather, they are lost dialects of the body's intelligence. The ancients recognised that cleansing the body meant cleansing the soul and that illness is not punishment but rather possession. When you remove what feeds on you, something awakens: clarity, a desire for the truth. It's as if the noise fades away and the original signal in your consciousness returns to full loudness. Stay with me now, for what died in those abandoned hospitals was more than a practice; it was a philosophy. A worldview that saw humans as sacred structures rather than disposable materials. And who buried it? They deleted not only medicine but also memory itself. Every parasite, whether biological or spiritual, requires one thing to survive: a host that is unaware it is being fed on. That is the secret to control: blindness. And what happens inside one human body is amplified over billions of bodies, forming civilisation itself. You believe you live in a society of choice, yet upon closer inspection, this world is a well-engineered ecosystem designed to nourish its secret feeders. Every billboard that tempts you, every aroma that emanates from a fast food restaurant, and every screen that flashes with fake light is bait. The architecture of your reality has been designed to keep you vibrating at the frequencies of hunger, sugar, salt, dopamine, s*x, and outrage. These are not indulgences; they are currency. Each reaction you have feeds something without a face. The parasite no longer lives solely in your gut; it now resides in your cities' infrastructure, algorithms that track your appetites, and industries that profit from your unconscious obedience. It began gradually, with food depleted of nutrition and substituted with addictive chemistry, water contaminated with metals that inhibit intellect, and air laden with unseen pollutants that weaken immunity. The body becomes sluggish, the mind becomes foggy, and the will fades, and in that weakness, both parasite and profiteer thrive.
The businesses that sell poison and the species that consume it are involved in the same rite. You eat, they grow; you die, they profit; the parasite consumes the body; and the system consumes the soul. It's no surprise that the symbols of trade and consumption resemble those of possession. Look at the serpent curled around the medical staff, the caduceus, which is known as a healer's emblem. However, ancient mystery schools saw it differently, as twin serpents of energy snaking around the human spine, feeding on imbalance. The same archetype now controls your economy. The market thrives on fear, instability, and greed, the same feelings that devils have traditionally preferred. Coincidence or revelation? The system suffers when people become overly healthy or alert. It must keep you caught between craving and guilt, hunger and sedation. Consider how each cycle of excess is followed by a wave of self-loathing. That emotional discharge is not a random occurrence; it is the result of energy extraction. The parasite takes the sweets, and the devil takes the humiliation. Corporations collect money; the system collects compliance. It's the ideal trinity of consuming. Yet, beneath this mechanisation, something divine continues to resist. The human spirit was not intended to be farmed; rather, it was designed to be free. That is why every act of consciousness, every conscious breath, and every refusal to give in to the hunger is a form of revolt on both the biological and metaphysical levels. When you reject the artificial impulse, you deplete the system's harvest and starve the parasite.
To remove the outside edifice of control, you must first deconstruct its inner reflection, the parasite within. Society is only the projection of your collective sickness. Heal the host, and the world will transform. The war, however, begins with purification rather than protest or fury. The battlefield is not the city, but your bloodstream. Every freedom begins with a simple act: recognising what has always been there. The parasite's primary power is invisibility. It exists in silence, nourished by your ignorance and sustained by your belief that you are in control. So, before the cleansing, fasting, and regeneration rituals, there is an awakening of seeing; awareness is the knife that slices through the invisible. Begin with a basic question: Who is moving me right now? Pause when you crave sweets, grab for a distraction, or become overwhelmed by anxiety. Observe the need as if it were a stranger speaking through your nerves. That pause is critical because it exposes the parasite. It cannot withstand the gaze of consciousness. Awareness burns worse than any medication. It starves the invader by refusing to satisfy the compulsion. Look deeper. The human nervous system functions as a grand transmitter, an antenna tuned to emotional and cognitive frequencies. What you name yourself is frequently a combination of broadcasts, some emanating from your soul and others broadcasting from the creatures and energy that are within you.
The gut, heart, and brain are not different entities; rather, they are instruments in a single symphony. But sometime along the road, the conductor fell asleep, and the instruments started playing themselves. That pandemonium shaped your personality. The ancients understood this. The Egyptians engraved it into stone, Buddhists encoded it through meditation, and Jung referred to it as the shadow. The darkness within is not bad; rather, it represents the unseen mechanism of influence. To view it without judgement is to recover authority. Awareness changes everything it comes into contact with. When you stare directly at the craving, anxiety, or recurring pattern of behaviour, you disrupt the program. As the signal diminishes, the host recalls that it is sovereign. Modern science refers to this as neuroplasticity, or the brain's ability to reorganise itself through observation and intention. The mystics call it emancipation, but both refer to the same miracle. When the witness awakens, the parasite starves. The infection can no longer control you without your permission. So the first step is not to oppose it, but to observe. Sit in silence. Watch the mind without feeding it; feel the hunger swell and fall like a tide, but do not succumb to it. The parasite is patient, but it cannot sustain your attention eternally. You are not at odds with your biology; you are regaining the throne of your being. When you finally understand the architecture of control, you'll notice it everywhere.
In commercials that mimic hunger, in political cycles that parallel addiction, and in relationships that resemble parasitic dependency. Awareness is the antidote to hypnosis. Once you see the pattern, you can't unsee it. Awareness is not enough. Seeing the cage does not release the bird. The following step is purgation, a sacred cleansing ritual in which you begin to demolish the kingdom cell by cell, breath by breath. Awareness opens the door, and cleaning leads you through it. Awareness awakens the mind, but purification restores the temple. The parasite is not a metaphor; it is flesh, chemistry, and action under the skin. To confront it, you must meet it where it lives: in the blood, the stomach, or the organ it calls home. Purging is not vanity; rather, it is cellular insurrection. When you start cleansing, your body trembles because the empire within feels threatened. Every culture that regarded the body as sacred practiced cleansing. The Essenes fasted silently before prayer. The Egyptians utilised black cumin and garlic as warding agents. Shamans drank bitter brews to ward off what they referred to as "light intruders.". Even though science mocks their ceremonies, the outcomes were genuine: parasites ejected, addictions broken, and spirits boosted. The ceremony may appear different now, but its objective remains the same. To evict what nourishes you.
Begin with the battle for appetite. Sugar, processed carbs, and alcohol. These aren't just indulgences; they're supply lines for the invader. Each spoonful represents a pact signed in blood. Withdraw your cooperation and reduce the supply. When you experience shaking, exhaustion, and wrath, it is not weakness but withdrawal. When the parasite is starving, it screams. Do not listen. That agony is not yours; it is the sound of chains shattering. Nature has already prepared you for the conflict. Wormwood, black walnut hulls, and cloves are ancient weapons disguised as herbs. They don't poison you; they poison the parasite. As they die, their ghosts will cause migraines, mood swings, and abrupt surges of despair. These are not symptoms of failure; rather, they are evidence of exorcism. The elderly die in a noisy manner; endure it. The silence that follows is liberation. Fasting intensifies the purge. Denying food deprives the invader of energy. However, something more subtle happens. The parasite's voice, which was previously deafening, fades into static. The hunger that remains is not physical but spiritual. Beneath it, a strange stillness emerges, the original self revealed. That is why prophets fasted before the revelation. The absence of matter opens the gates to the spirit. Hydration becomes sacred in this process. Clean water, pure salt, and lemon are simple alchemy that removes the co**se of the dying invader from your system. Support the liver, kidneys, and gut. These are the priests of purification. As the toxins exit, the body begins to hum again, restoring its natural rhythm. You begin to feel lighter, clearer, and less burdened by invisible weight. Cravings weaken, and discernment emerges. You no longer desire what will destroy you. That is not discipline; it is sovereignty.
Remember that this is not a cosmetic procedure but rather metaphysical surgery. The parasite dies in the body, but so does an ancient belief in the mind: that you are powerless. Cleansing is an initiation. Pain is the fire that tempers the steel of the will. Stay with me now, because the cleansing of the body prepares the way for the next revolution, the detoxification of the mind and spirit. Once the flesh is free, the true battle begins: to purify thought itself. As the body begins to cleanse, the battlefield changes. The parasite escapes from the gut and hides in the mind. Its chemistry turns into emotion, and its decay into thought. Most people believe the purge is over at this point, but the deeper infestation has only recently surfaced. Left unguarded, the mind becomes fertile ground for invisible seeds such as fear, guilt, obsession, and envy. And these are more than just moods; they're feeding stations. To detoxify the mind means reclaiming the command centre. It starts with silence because parasites cannot imitate any other sound. Every impulse that arises during meditation, such as an itch, a memory, or the desire to move, is the body's response to internal resistance. Sit through it and observe without judgement. The parasite thrives on reactions. When you refuse to respond, you cut its lifeline. You do not own your thoughts until you choose them. The majority are inherited transmissions broadcast by society, reinforced by trauma, and whispered by unseen forces who learnt your emotional passwords long ago. They creep into your consciousness disguised as self-talk. I cannot. I need. I am afraid. Each phrase infects the language. So start your detox with purifying speech. Replace complaints with gratitude, reactions with reflections, and noise with intention.
The vibration of your words reprograms the mental terrain. Parasites cannot thrive in coherence. Fasting of the senses is another key. Limit how much you see, hear, and consume mentally. The never-ending stream of chaos, news, gossip, and scrolling are psychic sugars that nourish the entities that live in distraction. The more attention you direct outward, the weaker your inner kingdom becomes. Pull it back. Attention is food for the soul. Direct it where it strengthens rather than where it drains. Then comes breath, the link between body and spirit. Controlled breathing purges the nervous system like water through stone. Inhale awareness. Exhale with possession. With every breath, you remind the body who is in charge. Breathwork, prayer, and mantra. These are not faith-based rituals but neurological reprogramming that retunes the organism's frequency. Emotional detox is the most painful because it exposes the parasites' favourite target: your unresolved wounds. They feed on your past. Every bitterness, anxiety, and memory of betrayal serves as an open door for them to feed. To conclude, you must forgive, not as a moral obligation, but as energetic hygiene. Forgiveness is the disinfectant for the soul. When you forgive, you drain the swamp where demons thrive. As the commotion fades, a clarity emerges—not joy, but neutrality, the quiet of a lake after a storm. You start to hear something subtle beneath thought: the original signal, the gentle hum of consciousness itself. That is the frequency that they cannot reproduce. When you slumber in it, you become invulnerable. Stay with me now because detox isn't the end; it's the beginning.
Once the mind is clear and the soul is stable, you must rebuild what the old world destroyed: your stronghold. To remain sovereign, you must strengthen your defences so that no parasite, biological or spiritual, can take hold again. Cleansing clears the battlefield, but fortification wins the war. Once the invaders have left, the body is raw and exposed, like a field after a storm, full of potential but vulnerable to the recurrence of the same old weeds. Strength must be regenerated in terms of frequency rather than muscle. You are not just recuperating; you are transmuting. The organism that emerges from this process is not the same one that started it. The gut is the first line of defence and the source of immunity. Feed it vitality, not indulgences. Probiotics, fermented foods, natural minerals, and clear spring water. Every cell that you nourish with integrity grows into a soldier of light. Parasites cannot flourish in a thriving environment. They require deterioration. You, now, are earth rendered sacred. Movement becomes your next treatment. The body must flow like water to remain awake. Exercise is not vanity; it is energy in motion, a circulation that avoids stagnation. Stillness breeds weakness; activity restores current. As the blood rushes, so does awareness. Sweat is the river by which poisons remember their way out. Each breath with exertion is a declaration. I am alive, and I am sovereign over my vessel. Then there is rest, the most underappreciated weapon. True sleep is a type of divine maintenance, the nightly calibration of your energetic body, but few sleep deeply today.
Screens, noise, and worry interrupt the dream cycle, leaving the psyche exposed to interference. Create sanctity around sleep, darkness, silence, and intention. Treat it as a ritual, not a routine. As you sleep, your spirit fixes the fractures that parasites once called home. Now comes transformation, the alchemy beyond purification. To transmute is to change what previously damaged you into power. Pain becomes insight, yearning becomes discernment, and every shadow integrated becomes light reclaimed. You no longer flee from the parasite; you study its pattern, absorb its lesson, and transform it into spiritual immunity. The poison becomes the instructor; the wound becomes the doorway. In this level, thankfulness becomes armor. Every morning you rise with knowledge of the miracle of breath, the sovereignty of choice, and the clarity of hunger that is completely yours. Gratitude affects the frequency of your entire field. Entities that feed on despair cannot exist in the resonance of gratitude. Joy, contrary to delusion, is not comfort; it is protection. As the system is rebuilt, the old world begins to lose its grip. You stop resonating with toxins. You go past temptation without thinking. The ads fall into silence, and the appetites stop singing. You begin to see the world for what it is: a vast ecosystem of energy competing for attention. However, as the awakened host, you now have the ability to choose. There is one last revelation, the final doorway where freedom and illusion meet.
After you've cleansed, reinforced, and transmuted, you must answer the only question that matters: the one that rings through every cell, thought, and dream. Who genuinely has control? And suddenly there's silence. The conflict is over. The noise that formerly filled your body, the wants, impulses, and whispers, has vanished. What remains is something most people never experience in their lives: the sound of their own soul. You've seen what feeds on you, and you've recovered what was stolen. The parasites, both biological and spiritual, have no strength without your permission. You are not a vehicle for their hunger. You are the consciousness that observes their starvation. The same energy that once followed their call now only responds to the truth. So ask yourself, not as a philosophical query, but as a reminder, who is in charge. The system will tempt you to forget. The cravings will attempt to resuscitate themselves. However, the difference now is sight. You can see the hand before it touches you and the whisper before it enters your mind. You are no longer a host but a sovereign field of consciousness. Remember this. The greatest exorcism is remembering that you are the soul and not the hunger. When you remember, the darkness fades. When you recall, the parasites lose their function. Remember that the war ends with waking rather than victory. So breathe, go back to your body, return to your life, and never again wonder, "Who is in control?" Because now you know.
&Conditioning
