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|Monday, January 5th, 2015|
When I was a teenager, I used to do a little exercise from time to time that involved expanding my awareness, then shrinking it. I actually got the idea from a novel, and I added a little something extra at the end that I discovered on my own. Later I would learn a Sufi exercise that did almost the same thing, minus the ending I added from my insights. It goes like this.
Hit the position. Become aware of your body parts. Then your breath. Then your room, house, neighborhood, town, country, continent, planet, solar system, galaxy, universe.....rest in that expanded awareness for a moment. Then reverse it. Draw back, and when you get back to your body, keep shrinking. Become aware of cells, molecules, atoms, etc. Shrink till your awareness falls downward into a a great void and you find yourself sitting in a little boat, floating in a vast darkness on an endless, black sea. Note the conditions on the waters. Is it placid? Choppy? Just sit and breath for a minute, then look over the side of your boat into the waters....what do you see? Record that in your magical diary.
|Tuesday, December 30th, 2014|
|Don't miss the glory
Marshall McLuhan observed that "All words, in every language, are metaphors." Husserl observed that "all perceptions are gambles". Korzybski observed that "The map is not the territory", which Alan Watt's playfully restated as "The menu is not the meal." Lao Tzu observed that the "way" you can speak about is not the "way" itself. This insight reappears down through the ages time and time again, muttered by various mutants and mystics. To grok this, to drink it deeply, is to realize that everything you say - each word, each symbol - is metaphor. Fingers pointing at the moon. Get hung up on the fingers, as the Zen story goes, and you'll miss the glory of the moon. I leave it to you, dear readers, to suss out what the metaphor of the moon is pointing at.
In the meantime, let this bake your noodle: a change in language can change your apprehension of the cosmos. Language, words, are metaphors. Metaphors are symbolic, weaving semiotic webs. They are the stuff of myths, and like language, a change in myths, too, will change your apprehension of the cosmos. Embedded in all that you say is a mythic dimension, for myth is a language, a way of pointing at the moon. Just remember while you are pointing to heed the old zen story. Don't miss the glory of the moon.
|Rivers of being
The world flows. It is flow. And thou art that.
Try to sense it and feel it, this flow of experience, never stopping, like a great current. Now you might get a sense that you are in fact floating in this river of experiences, but look closer. Find the edge of experience and follow it. From whence does it come, and to where does it go? Look closer still and you will see that there are no edges to be found. You are not a separate thing bobbing about in that great and fateful current. You are yourself the current, without edges, ancient and timeless. And it is all boiling up from deep wells, flowing outward with the appearance of ten thousand things and returning again to that great deep, to feed the roots of being and begin it all again. All around you, one thing flowing into the other, one sensation into the other, and a million subtle causes weaving the thread of wyrd; the Nornic forces forever shedding, picking, and battening at their loom. They sit, gathered around that dark pool; a dark pool from whence reality is woven into existence, into the experience of forms, and into which it all returns again to formlessness. The tapestry is woven, the threads cut, then it is unwoven and the spinners begin again. A tale told in endless cycles as the cold void explodes with awareness and form, born of fire and ice, and is then consumed once more by those same eternal actions. Flowing.
Because the world flows. It is flow. And thou art that.
For most of us, life is full of edges and boundaries. We cannot find our way back into the flow of experience. Instead we chop it up and hide behind a wall of words - words that serve as a fortress within which we hide from the sensual continuum. Our carefully segregated little word maker, self-such, lies all alone, overwhelmed and terrified of that rich otherness. But try as we might, we still have intimations of our nature. Perhaps it comes at a moment when, without warning, we find our torrent of inner words shocked into silence by the call of a bird or the sound of the wind winding its way through the boughs of an old oak.
Just for a moment, the sound of the leaves carries us back into the roiling waters of sensation. We feel the air caress our skin, we smell the soil, and we taste our own saliva. Our eyes are ravished by the raw display of color and form. Maybe we begin to notice how our feet press into the earth, and how the earth presses back. At such moments, perhaps the sorcery of it all overtakes you and you realize that the feeling, the pressure, is not just at the skin. It is behind it and beyond it. The earth is in you and you are in the earth, and try as you might, you can find no boundary. Sensation extends and you are entwined with the trees; to touch them is to be touched by them, and to be aware of them is to be aware to them; the field of awareness is seen as the river itself.
Because the world flows. It is flow. And thou art that.
Or maybe this frightens you back into a sudden storm of words, hiding the experience from your direct awareness while all those concepts and carefully constructed ideas lull you back into a dull stupor. It doesn't matter. The words themselves are another current or river of experience. Each brings with it another chance, gifted to you by Fate, to see the origin of all things, and to know that...
...the world flows. It is flow. And thou art that.
|Monday, August 11th, 2014|
The ideas generated by Science Fiction have so permeated my "spiritual" and political philosophies as to be one and the same, on certain levels. Vogt's "Null-A" books, Heinlein's SISL, TMISHM, and TEFL, Asimov's Foundation series, Herbert's Dune Series, Russell's "The Great Explosion"....I could go on. There is so much more.
One of the concepts from Heinlein's SISL that I always loved is the Fair Witness. I found this cute little teaching story expressing the concept on a Heinlein Forum:
Three Heinlein characters took a trip to Scotland and drove through the countryside. They passed a farm where they saw a herd of cows with dark brown hides.
"Wow," said Ben, "All the cows in Scotland have brown hides."
"You mean," said Mike, "All the cows in this herd have brown hides."
"All the cows in this herd that we can see, " cautioned Anne, "have brown hides on the side facing us."
|Friday, July 25th, 2014|
|What about those Apes on Sol 3?
'Adepticus Sir, that bunch of Ornithoids on Artoc 4 that you asked me to observe, well they've just trashed their planet.'
'Oh that is a pity Initiatus Jones. What was it this time, ecological screw up or nuclear winter?'
'Worse than that sir, i looks lke they were mucking around with vacuum energy without having first invented the Mobius sphere.'
'Ah yes, the old classic mistake, we loose a few like that.'
'Could we not have tipped them off about it Sir?'
'I'm afraid not Jones, stupidity must remain its own reward, it's regrettable but there you are. Did you salvage anything?'
'They composed some fairly good poetry a couple of centuries ago, and some rather fine cloud sculptures fairly recently, I've logged some records in the archives.'
'Splendid Jones, I'll peruse them this evening. What about those Apes on Sol 3, how are they getting on?'
'Quit a bit of warfare as usual Sir, mostly based on chemical explosives these days, but with the occasional use of plutonium. Many of them have developed a belief in a big bang theory, and they reckon that they have the maths to prove it.'
'Really? Smith in anthropology will probably find that hilarious, I'm sure she would appreciate the data. It was one of her old Stomping grounds you know?'
'No I didnt know that Sir'
'It was a long time ago Jones, and a bit of a fiasco actually, she gave them a piece of her mind about some of their barbaric behavior which then abruptly became worse. Ever since then they have been obsessed with the number plate on her craft, it read 'JHVH'. The department gave her a desk job after that.'
~ Peter Caroll
|Wednesday, January 15th, 2014|
You spend enough time turning on the Neurogenetic circuit and you start getting very suspicious that Our Lady of the Stars is definitely calling us home to Galactic Center. The "coiled splendor" so often used in kundalini metaphors may even suggest the DNA helix within us is the secret of immortality. Think of the strange images that accompany the kundalini experience. Atavistic visions of past and future mutations are quite common and so is the vision of Her whose very hair is made of stars. If we keep our wits about us, we may yet answer her call and become a species of cosmic Immortals.
|Let go of the tiller.
I was walking around the lakes with the dog yesterday. I reached a point where I could continue around to the next lake or use a small bridge that extends the walk by about a half of a mile. I intended to walk around, but the dog pulled me towards the bridge and some joggers running four abreast inclined me to follow his lead. So I crossed the bridge and began the slightly longer trek around the west side of the lake where we'd already been. There we met an older woman, maybe in her mid sixties. Turns out I was able to help her with a car problem. She mentioned that I was the only person who offered to help or who was willing to allow her to use their cell phone to call her insurance company. What a shame. She was a very sweet person. You get a sense every once in awhile that you are acting as an agent of the Fates. I was not intending to be where she was, yet I felt compelled to walk in her direction. Perhaps just coincidence, but I do not feel that was the case. I always say follow the course the cosmos sets for you. She is a wonderful storyteller and it would be a shame to miss your part in the play. The Weaver nudged me towards this damsel in distress, and I answered the call. A small thing, to be sure, but kindness often grows the most in the small things we do; in any case, it still turns the wheel of karma.
It disturbs my harmony when I meet someone who defines a person's importance and worth by how grandiose their wants and ambitions are. Wanting a Yacht is not a benchmark of worthiness in life.
|Hide and Seek
I try not to judge since it is possible that someone is, like the two birds in the Upanishads, both watching and playing. Doubtful, but you never know. Many are the ways God plays hide and seek with God. As an example, I (and you) occasionally get playful and chatter about what's wrong in the world....but we all know that there is nothing wrong. Everything toots along just fine. If humans destroy themselves, well, that was part of the story and we (the species) played it admirably. I don't wring my hands over how the cosmos tells the story. I just play the part as the director ask me to play it. I have long since let go of the tiller and let it do the driving.
I tend to take a Sufi type approach to this. No need for anyone to know how I am really experiencing the cosmos or god. I wear the old ego-suit I was given when I started this performance to avoid agitating the natives in Maya's Playhouse. If they mistake this character for being a dual based consciousness, then good. All is as it should be and I am still playing hide and seek as intended.
|Tuesday, December 31st, 2013|
|Jane! Get me off this crazy thing!
4th circuit social scripts have gone from being ludicrous to me to simply being meaningless and irrelevant. This is particularly true of the "success script" most Americans are running. I've noticed some people judge others by how grandiose their wants and ambitions are, as if wanting a yacht and a house in the Hamptons is somehow indicative of your worthiness. It is also not lost on me that the few friends I have who are "rich" (that is, make at least $250K a year) have very little time for anything other than maintaining that status. They work absurdly long hours and when they aren't working, they are scrambling to use their minuscule free time making a show of "connecting" with their kids (by dropping them off at Karate Class, Boy Scouts, etc.) and maintaining their nest. From my perspective they seem to be doing everything but living. They consume a lot though, and I suspect the script they are running is designed for that and nothing else. Buy a bigger house, another car, dream large. Always get more. How can anyone know how worthy you are if you don't have the STUFF to prove it?
Is there even consciousness in these folks?
It feels like that old '80s movie "They Live": "The poor and the underclass are growing. Racial justice and human rights are nonexistent. They have created a repressive society and we are their unwitting accomplices. Their intention to rule rests with the annihilation of consciousness. We have been lulled into a trance. They have made us indifferent to ourselves, to others. We are focused only on our own gain."
|Monday, December 30th, 2013|
|One monkey at a time
"The aim of the Illuminati (ed: or Invisible college or what ever you like to call it), was not political in the narrow sense, but psycho-neurological: they aimed to open the ecstasy circuit, making the "sun behind the sun", the God Within, perceptible to humanity as a whole. The aim was not overthrow authority, but to outgrow it. To liberate people one at a time."
Many of my "magician" colleagues deny the existence of such a conspiracy. This amuses me, because almost all of them, while denying that there are any secret societies that teach sex magic and tantric self-liberation techniques, belong to secretive groups like the A:.A:., G:.D:., O.T.O., Tibetan Tantric schools, Daoist Alchemy schools, etc., all of which aim at liberating people one at a time by teaching them sex magic and tantric self-liberation techniques. They also deny that such knowledge can be, and may have been, gleaned from higher intelligences. Again, they make this denial while pursuing practices of contacting and communing with higher intelligences. It's as if they don't see that they are themselves, to use Alobar's phrasing, the "Secret Agent's of the Great Work."
|Monday, December 16th, 2013|
|Io evohe, Babalon! How I adore thee!
A Few of the Things I Know About Her - By Simon Moon
I know that She forever grows more lovable as I understand Her better; and that She forever grows more understandable as I love Her better.
I know that She is incarnate, a living presence, Anna Livia Plurabella, in every living creature of us, including the people I can't stand - which shows Her incredible humility and Her fantastic sense of humor.
I know that She has time and time again ravished me entirely with Her beauty, so She is the supreme artist; and I know that She forever transcends my understanding, so She is the supreme intelligence; but She is more than beauty and intelligence.
I know that She inspires the Bard who sings to me, and that he is Her priest; and that I am only the local transmitter through which he broadcasts his eternal adoration for Her.
And I know that I adore Her, my Babalon! I adore Her, my dark-eyed Nu!
And I know that it is the supreme glory of my life that She has manifested Herself to me, sometimes for hours on end, once even for two weeks; but She has manifested Herself most truly in those brief moments when I have been annihilated entirely in Her.
I know that I can lover Her best through one woman; but this is my nature, as a Capricorn, and there are other paths for other lovers of Her.
I know that, although She seems fickle and arbitrary at times, She is only so in my narrow egotistic view of things at the moment; and that I have understood Her, and lover Her, best in those moments when I accepted Her total perfection without question.
I know that She is my complement, my other Self; and that She is all the fiery intoxication that draws me out of my narrow self into eternal striving toward Her perfection.
And I know that I adore Her, my Babalon! I adore Her, my lion-loined Nu!
I know that I only know a few things about Her now, but I am luck beyond beliefe, for once I knew nothing about Her.
I know that She loves me with as fierce a passion as I lover Her; but She is promiscuous and loves all Her lovers that way.
I know that She is in the stars and between them; and in every sentient mind.
I know that all Her lovers go mad, by the judgement of this world; but this is false, for it is the world that is mand, and deranged, and besotted in grief - because it does not know Her.
And I know that I adore Her, my Babalon! I adore Her, my mother Nu!
I know that She is beyond metaphor, beyond speech, beyond thought; but She is radiantly sane and simple in Her heart.
I know that She is happiest of all, because She loves All; and She is wisest, because She is drunken in Her ecstasy of creation.
I know that She is in the dance, because She is dance; but She is in the movements of the stars and in the astronomer's equations, for She is the Mother, not the Daughter of Order.
I know that She is feared and comes as the nightmare into the minds of those who are without love; but She is forever gracious to those who sing to Her, and cry out to Her, and moan to Her, and repeat endlessly in thier hearts:
I know that I adore Her, my Babalon! I adore Her, my soft-fleshed Nu!
I know that even though my heart may sing with the ecstasy of Her, and my brain whirl with the mystery of Her, one part of me will live in misery forever, until I am entirely lost in Her.
I know that even though my heart may sink with despair, and my brain stop with confusion, one part of me will be joyfully understanding forever, because I am not truly separate from Her.
I know that She is beyond intelligence, beyond emotion, beyond intuition; I know that She is drawing me beyond intelligence, beyond emotion, beyond intuition.
I know that I am enslaved and entraptured and destroyed by Her again and again and again until my words die in my throat and I can only moan as I try to repeat:
I adore Her my Babalon! I adore Her, my hot-tongued Nu!
|The Fullerian Cross of Light
The Fullerian Cross of Light:
Imagine a sphere of light at the groin and say: Not
Draw the light to the crown of the head and say: Noun
Draw the light to the right nipple and say: But
Draw the light to the left nipple and say: Verb
Imagine a sphere growing where the arms of the cross meet in the chest, expanding like a blue-silver sphere around you. Imagine the kundalini-serpent power-prana rushing about this sphere in a frenzy of activity. Dwell upon the fact that you are a process of events and not a static thing.
|Friday, December 13th, 2013|