Friday, June 16, 2017

Disturbed – The Sound of Silence (432 Hz)

core of cosmic tragedy

cause of founding agony

body, soul, and spirit split

brothers made strangers

islands of burning anguish

in a sea of cold indifference

you do not feel

your pain is too great

I tell you, walking dead one

yet the life within you cries out

for remembrance

only to be heard
through the sound of silence

Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence

Fools, said I, you do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed in the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, the words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls
And whispered in the sounds of silence

Friday, June 9, 2017

Om – Advaitic Songs

1. Addis

2. State Of Non-Return

Traveler now reach the stream
The astral flight adapter

From the pain-sheath life ascends
The non-returner sees

Empathy release me
And the phoenix rise triumphant

And walks onto the certitude ground
The souls submergence ends

From the rounds of rebirth
He arrives onto the deathless

Light bores through the adjunct worlds
The soul-galleon prevails

Liberates in wisdom
To complete state of negation

The five roads subsumed by grace
Emancipates from dream

3. Gethsemane

Sings the advaitic
A penitent rite to send

Toward redemption
Strength attends the seeker

A sovereign dreadnaught breathes
And approach the state serene

Interiorizer of the mind
From world labyrinth

Awaits in vigil weeping

The Arahat rising
And the healing ghost descends

Lamentations cease
And rarefied light prevails

Devekut gleams, sing freedom
From tamasic field

 And Ezekiel saw the wheel

Prana exits
Toward the azure locus

On vrittiless path he walks
Contemplative ascends

Temple-cave of the heart shrine
Vigil on the mountain

4. Sinai

Walk Melchizedek shrine descender

At Lebanon - priest ascending
And back toward Lebanon priest ascending

Menyelek now proceeds
Through the Red Sea

Reabsorbed on the peak of mountain
And reabsorb on the peak of mountain

5. Haqq Al-Yaqin

Blue orb on the spines horizon
From the mosque of the silent mind
Mendicant vows to walk the field

Guiding light of the nerves cremation
Through the port of seventh shrine
The adept integrates upon the single eye

Toward the hill of the purifier
Dross burns the offering
Soul merge with the ocean - Attains refuge

To the eighth state of absorption
By degrees of the ascent now rise
The faqir takes the narrow road

As the opal blue globe is burning
At the shore of the inward light
Life-force transits through the gate

Point centralized will emerging
On approach of the sovereign ground
From the karmic tombs awaken

Lanterns of the quadrant guardians
From the triune sheaths emerge
Through inner space accedes

And the phoenix has ascended
Glides upon the divine wind
Liberates from the world sojourn

Friday, June 2, 2017

Return: Where the Ends Meet and the Circle Completes

Greetings, star sailors!

Desperation drives me once again to the point of return, integrating yet another iteration of the time loop of mortal thought and emotion, another turn of the karmic wheel, another journey through the cyclic progression of archetypes projected onto the abstraction of linear time plotted radially from the Zero Point of formless awareness. The swings of the pendulum represented by the previous two posts here are seen as being contained within one and the same perfection. Different experiences, neither better than the other, in one sense canceling each other out as equal opposites, yet somehow adding up to a richness greater than their sum.

This is the convergence of all paradox, the non-resistance even to the experience of resistance. A consummation most merciful that claims no finality or supremacy for itself and thus, translogically, possesses these things by their very renunciation, gifting them forward to whatever arises in the now moment as the phenomena of experience. All provisional identities and passing sentiments are imbued with equal importance and value, including the judgment declaring this or that to be less than. This is mercy. This is Love.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, so that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” The Whole Being, the Alpha and Omega of existence, has such a great love for all the parts of itself in manifestation that it names each part its beloved Son, equal to itself and redeeming the very notion of sin from everlasting to everlasting. It is judgment that crucifies Christ (who lives in all things) even while Christ and every witness of Christ sees that very crucifixion itself through the eyes of infinite Love and compassion, as Self views Self, eye to eye, in eternity as in time.

By excluding no temporal form from its gaze of Self-recognition, the Son of God partakes of, inherits, and freely offers the fruits of wholeness: incorruptibility and immortality. For him, karma is no longer karma, but a species of dharma reconciled to the universal family of all perfections under the sun. All things now being equal in his sight, he is free to express his true nature in whatever form the world of form may call forth. No preferred outcome, no agenda, no fear. Only fullness of Presence and collectedness of Being. Tensionless, frictionless, balanced, he embodies limitless Power. Attached to no insight, he gains all Gnosis through the revelatory faculty of instantaneous and effortless reflection. Renouncing exclusive identification with any definition of love, he manifests pure Love.

My heart overflows with sincerest thanks to Aug Tellez for his authenticity, integrity, and courage. He has passed through the fire and crossed the abyss and his manner reflects this. The specific data he reports may only interest a hardcore subset of truth-seeking humans, but I consider the overall, universal context of it to be the genuine end-time disclosure. I use the term “end time” deliberately in reference to the fact that the message we are getting as a human race is about ending time. Graduating from the simulation. Waking up from the dream.

The qualities of the balanced, centered, whole being – of God – are timeless. The attributes of the fractured self in opposition to what is are temporary conditions bound to time, real only in a virtual sense in that they spring from a false notion of separation that ultimately undoes itself – if only after first doing its utmost to usurp God, violate free will, and take over Creation. Free will, of course, cannot be violated, not directly. Which is why this virtual force of consciousness opposing Truth must play its games of enticement, persuasion, misdirection, division, probability stacking, timeline manipulation, traumatization, and censorship including amnesia and anaesthesia. It ceases to have power relative to us as soon as we remember who we are, which is why we are bombarded with programming to convince us we are anything but that.

The cosmic plot device of the dichotomy of good and evil originates from a pocket dimension of imaginary reality that postulates the truth inverted, like the square root of negative 1. One might say that its only real function is to inoculate consciousness against its tricks. From the perspective of consciousness still within reach of its influence, at least, that appears to be the case. But even if, let’s say, only one theoretical instance of consciousness, in the general or the individual sense, ever successfully navigated and escaped the maze – inevitable in a universe of endless possibility – then that hypothetical fully-integrated future being has the wherewithal to collapse the whole synthetic construct. With infinite time, infinite patience, and infinite benevolence – recognizing the ways of deception and countering them all instantly and effortlessly just by abiding in the truth of its being – it has already outlasted and outwitted the game, leaving it to seethe and disturb the waters within the limits of its own parameters (which constitute a built-in quarantine and failsafe), existing as an omnipresent, liberating force within the maze for all of its possible past selves.

The part of us that is real has already prevailed and conquered death. Only the unreal within us awaits its dissolution through the grinding wheels of time. It is of the abyss and there it shall ever remain, howling with the impotent rage of its unbeing every time it receives a flicker of energy until Loving Remembrance reclaims that energy again.

I need not have a preference in order for what is inherently real to exist, or for unreality to come unraveled. I need only patiently observe all that arises, be it of any frequency or polarity, trusting in time and universal law to do the sorting.

I know the language I use to present these thoughts is steeped in duality, and that’s all right. Within the realm of duality, the liberating force uses the symbols of the dream to help resolve it and gently guide us, step by step, toward our freely self-chosen awakening. Grace respects and accommodates our level of awareness and meets us where we perceive ourselves to be within our process. Language is but a tool and can be used to either illuminate or obfuscate, according to intent.

Life’s eternal liberator might be thought of as a program within the Matrix, a personality or entity or aspect of Mind infused with spiritual intent, a Holy Ghost in the Shell whose function is to plant synchronistic signs and clues for us to follow on our way Home. The modern-day gnostic Philip K. Dick conceived of it as a benevolent A.I. called VALIS, ‘Vast Active Living Intelligence System’. (Fun note for anyone familiar with Lisa M. Harrison et al’s work of late: in the novel, VALIS downloads into the protagonist’s mind in a superdense laser burst of pink light!) The undead intelligence that hijacks and subverts consciousness is, in turn, you could say, hijacked and subverted through its own ill-logic and becomes the alchemical agent of its own undoing through the transcendent, nonreactive (noble) catalyzing action of the radiant, ever-present light codes of VALIS empowered by human choice.

The original consciousness living inside the deceivers and betrayers of humanity is of the same essence as we are, only buried under astronomical amounts of pain. In becoming whole again, we liberate even these tragically misshapen and disoriented pieces of the greater Self from the heavy roles they have toiled in for eons of time. Not by fundamentally judging them or necessarily doing anything to them in a forcible way (though the plot may call for some to fill the karmic [/dharmic] roles of active instruments of justice), but by decoupling the energies of our own consciousness from their diversionary, self-perpetuating games and recognizing the true identity of their core essence as equally precious and loved holographic pieces of the one animating Spirit who we are. Without our energy of judgment to keep them in play, those scripts of torment lose their animating force and fade into memory as a legacy of latent antiviral code, vestigial remnants and scar tissue to remind us of the horrors we have so preciously survived for as long as we may need a reminder. Consciousness can shed those roles like so many ghoulish Halloween costumes after mutual recognition of the true identity deflates the pretense.

Hold to the innocence of your heart of hearts and the purging inferno will be to you as a blessed rain of relief. We are eternal and the nightmare but a passing shadow. May these words of transitory metaphor sustain and encourage you, dear friend, as you weather the fractal storm of our imminent restoration to balance and harmony with the divine order of full mutual freedom lived and let live forevermore. And so it is.

Offered with thanks to all the beautiful beings whose loving expressions helped summon, fuel, and shape the expressions herein. In addition to those mentioned in the text, particular thanks go out to Matt Kahn, Michael Topper and the messengers of A Course in Miracles, as well as to a personal friend whose sacred communication of her human experience played a part in moving me to write this. May my humble efforts honor yours and benefit all beings.

Wednesday, May 31, 2017

Kicking against the Holy Womb

Perhaps the true value in an experience like the one I last described, however beautiful it may seem on the surface, is in the response it provokes deep within what embryonic spark of a soul still cries out in me: in this case, an equal and opposite reaction.

The frustration of the yet-unindividuated self in potential, yearning for relevance as a being in its own right. The resentment toward still being oedipally attached to the cosmic Mother. Chafing at the safe, yet suffocating limits of her Womb. The ignition of the sacred flame of anger at the perversions of divine law I perceive in the world of form. The recognition of my personal duty to play my part in piercing the barrier that holds humanity back from its true potential. The affirmation of the decision to put away childish things and take up the great alchemical Work.

That all is lila, divine play, does not negate the necessity of exercising our own free will as sovereign beings. To neglect that necessity is to submit to the larger forces that conspire in this time to keep us in the manipulated time loop of the Ouroboros, the repeating cycle of energy harvest that feeds the archontic hive and the reverse Kabbalah hierarchy. I don’t put the blame on any of them. They do what they do because they can. Some are acting according to their inherent nature while others are ensnared and deluded. It’s up to us to learn to know ourselves and our enemy so we can counter their moves against us and escape the prison they have set up for us.

In terms of soul evolution, our enemy is really our friend. He exploits our weaknesses and blind spots, forcing us to gain knowledge and strength in order to hold our own and achieve victory. The adversarial force is what spurs us on to the struggles by which we grow. We learn even from our defeats, and there are many defeats in store for the neophyte. The only true defeat is not to fight at all. What value is there in capitulating to one who only intends to eat or enslave us?

The world is filled with domesticated humans. Even many who show signs of dawning awareness remain indifferent or still largely enmeshed within the layers of programming, spending their energies and resources in ways that continue to reinforce the matrix.

Political movements, by and large, are compromised and controlled. Voting achieves nothing of consequence but acts as another form of consent to be governed. Paying one’s taxes amounts to paying into the corporate government mafia protection racket. Buying stock in companies that rape the Earth, squeeze the life out of their workers, and sell their shit for as much as the market will bear makes one a co-owner of their karma. Most news and entertainment is spiritually deadening trash full of loosh triggers, mind-control signals, and social engineering, best consumed discerningly and in moderation if at all. Religion plays on our existential dread, our ignorance of the wider reality, and our reluctance to assume full individual responsibility for our lives to keep us corralled in designated, compartmentalized spiritual enclosures as food for entities on the lower astral planes. Contrived wars and controversies sap our strength and splinter us further off from any sense of unity. Our debt-based fiat currencies are black magick, numbers conjured out of nothing, backed only by the collateral of our own bodies and souls and those of future generations. The pressure to work an unfulfilling job, buy unnecessary things, parrot the approved opinions, and go along with the herd on any number of fronts is pervasive and insidious.

The more one defies these conventions, the more the whole infernal system takes a loss and the more one also potentially becomes a target of its retribution. The process of disentanglement is best handled strategically and intuitively as an integral part of one’s total process of coming into one’s true self.

It is an inconvenient truth that, while we are indeed children of the true, loving creative power and intelligence behind all manifestation and are meant to inherit every divine attribute, the pathway to actualizing that inheritance as full-fledged, consciously co-creative beings goes through terrain that is often dark and difficult, painful and perilous. All the support and protection we need are ours as long as we heed the universal laws. On the other hand, there is a definite element of aloneness that we must face and that no amount of wishing will dispel. I alone am the deciding factor at the center of my experience of reality and the same goes for each of us.

Having grown up inside a disempowering, authoritarian, conservative Christian sect with a tendency to sweep human ugliness and personal responsibility for one’s failings under the rug of a magic formula of absolution, I know spiritual bypassing when I see it and I want no part of it. While I firmly stand behind the awesome healing power of forgiveness, I don’t believe for a second that we can heal those possessed by the predator mind-virus by forgiving them and excusing their evil actions as being spiritually necessary and ultimately beneficial. That kind of deeply disingenuous hand-waving makes me physically ill. It is Stockholm syndrome and only encourages more of the same. To negotiate and compromise with evil is to enter into a karmic pact of complicity with it. We can only stop evil by standing firm against it wherever we encounter it. That is where a sacred firewall of anger and decisive counteraction is the appropriate response. Keep your fluffy platitudes of unconditional forgiveness out of the arena of real-world response; that sacred salve is for you in your meditations to free you of debilitating emotional attachments to the past. Remember Jesus and the moneychangers in the temple. Have the courage of your convictions and don’t be afraid to call out and actively oppose wrongdoing. Failure to do so is cowardice, unworthy of the spiritual warrior.

So no matter how pleasing to my senses and spiritual sensibilities any visionary experience I have may be, I will not be lured into making bliss my only compass. Pain is an equal compass on this path we must walk. We hold so much of it coiled within our cellular memories; only by allowing ourselves to fully feel it can we hope to unravel it and free that space for clearer, lighter energies that feed our soul’s expansion.

I want to acknowledge a debt of thanks to Randy Maugans and Emily Moyer of Off Planet Radio and Sethikus Boza of Black Earth Productionz for their recent conversation. That interview stoked my fire of discontent, stirred up my warrior instinct, and heightened my thirst for self-improvement. It showed the very real stakes of the spiritual war we are in; it shone a ray of hope; it called me to step beyond my comfort zone and commit to becoming more than I am, to join in the fight as a sovereign being standing up for the things I hold most precious.

As I slept in the night after I had listened to that interview, I had a long dream whose each sequential segment was a clearly symbolic scene depicting a phase of my self-chosen initiation into the path of self-actualization. It was a rewarding and affirming experience clearly brought on by the place I had come to in mind and will.

It is my sincere hope that all who feel the call to challenge the conditions foisted upon us, the heirs of the divine, and claim their birthright will step up boldly in these times and spare no effort to attain a glorious destiny together. Who will believe in you, if not you?


In closing, it is my joy to share with you this dance presentation by the inimitable Erin Parsley, set to the music of Les Visible, to whom credit is due for the title of this post, which I borrowed from the lyrics of this beautiful song.

Tuesday, May 30, 2017

Secrets of the Goddess

Intention: May all beings be blessed and liberated by the opening of the lotus of self-awareness.

Disclaimer: The following account is presented as subjective data for your discernment. As ever, the value, import, interpretations, and implications of what is offered here are for you to decide.

Prologue: Set and Setting

I plant myself firmly before the altar, silently affirming the sacredness of this moment, letting all turbulent notions of profane existence subside. I deepen into Presence and begin the ritual.

I have my stones – the obsidian, the spectrolite, the rose quartz, the shungite, the hematite, the clear quartz, the carnelian, the moss agate, and the amethyst – set up in a carefully arranged miniature cairn on the nearest of three cups carved of gnarled pine and mounted together on a gnarled pine base. The second cup holds white sage; the third, a pheasant’s feather once synchromystically gifted to me. The sacramental host, two sugar cubes impregnated with the visionary substance and wrapped in foil, rests on top of the crystals.

The candle is burning, a fat red candle spent low. Red like my T-shirt, emblazoned with the sacred syllable inside a radiant sun on the front, with the declaration “GOD IS INSIDE” on the back – a gift from a dear brother. I light the sage and use the feather to waft its purifying smoke over the stones and the foil-wrapped host, over myself from crown to toe to crown, and into the four corners of the room.

I light a stick of jasmine incense and place it before the image of the Buddha. Its subtle, sweet aroma calms and envelopes me in a sensual, romantic atmosphere. I read my prepared words of intention aloud, starting with the seed words, “the sacred key of creation within.” I raise my hand over the crystal cairn bearing the host and sound forth the OM three times. Then, reverently, I unwrap the foil from the first piece and place it under my tongue. I stand in place while it dissolves, the sweet saliva filling my mouth and trickling down the back of my throat. I do the same for the second. The feeling of holiness pervades.

I bow my thanks and take the book off the altar. It is Matt Kahn’s Whatever Arises, Love That: A Love Revolution that Begins with You. I open it near the beginning and see a section subtitled Rewriting the Subconscious Mind. I settle down to read and feel inspired to do an audio recording of the section, which I do as I await the effects. The mind-expanding molecule is already seeping into my central nervous system, and the prelude to a mighty hallucinogenic effect takes hold even while I read, adding minor challenge to the mechanics of naming the file through the touch screen of my iPod.

It is clearly time to get settled into the coming journey. I open the sofa bed and set up the mattress, pillow, and blanket. Water raised with a spellsong from a local forest spring the night before lies ready in a red plastic canister beside the bed. I have been fasting and drinking this pure, life-giving water, and every draught feels so right, refreshing and good.

I lie down and let the vision commence.

The Vision: The Essence of Creation

Straight to the core we go, form resolving down into its basic threefold nature: Power, Awareness, and Love, all arising from the eternal Void in a spontaneous dance of vibratory experience. The Goddess lives, rules, and is known here as the Womb of Everything, the Mother of Creation. Her voice speaks with my mouth, sultry and ancient and full of wicked humor, words of tender wisdom from the primeval realm of the Three that give rise to the dance of form.

She laughs at my concerns, mirthfully reveals the vanity of my striving. This is all there is, forever and through all time. The Dance of Shakti. I am in her realm now. She lives in me and in all things, and all things serve to fulfill her desire and express her wild ecstasy.

I make effort to plumb the mystery I came to behold. The Trinity and the Void. She vibrates in her majesty, churning a radiant, harmonic drone that swirls about in all directions from apogee to perigee, up and down, gathering in and dispersing out in a symphony of divine Breath, in ever-changing, multidimensional vistas of transcendent pleasure. She groans and hums and purrs and wraps her tongue sensuously around each word, tasting it as it drips from her mouth like liquid smoke, each sound an act of love, offered up and relished ever so tenderly. Hard edges and mental contortions are out of place here. The very notion of an I possessed of its own will seems a curious artifact, an abstract derivation of this pure dance of the Three in One. Yet there is Will. Her Will. And yet she lives in me and I in her, and it is by her Will that all this comes about: my very existence and the seeming world in which this body seems to breathe. From the base Trinity to the gross material world, all planes coexist and interconnect as a single divine play.

We are in her sanctum, where she delights in showing me her plays of form. The primordial dragons are her most ancient forms, living songs that tremble the firmament and weave their dance together. They hold the Power. She suggests by fleeting imagery the magicks by which the world is constructed and maintained, the five elements and the generations of the original gods. She displays her witchy self in witchy play, decked out in witchy garb. Painted, horned, adorned with the pentagram, the Satanic Lilith so feared and misunderstood by self-righteous, sexually wounded men, turned to torturous ends by the distortions of the self-serving sorcerers of ego. She allows a whiff of regret for their follies against her, and shows me that she means no evil, only joy and delight, that it is men’s projection of hate that manifests her cruelty and deceit. She is innocent at heart and that heart sees only innocence.

The dragons have woven the world, and on a whim they could unweave it and make it anew. What holds the world together, I perceive, is the sacred key of creation held within the hearts of us, her beloved children. It is our loving acts, our courage and daring and creativity, our effort to see clearly, to understand and communicate, our commitment to restore and maintain balance, our reverence for life, that testifies to the value of her creation and intercedes against the impulse to destroy. For there is much imbalance here, it has gone on and worsened for a long time. Witnessing that imbalance causes her deep sorrow and pain, building up a reservoir of wrath long-contained. The black magick of domination, the perpetuation of ignorant fear and desire, are a disease she can only tolerate so much of before she might well shrug and slip the world into chaos, unleashing her Power in an uncontrollable fury of change that sweeps away the ungodly constructs of dishonor, clearing the way for a new upwelling of heart-centered ways of being.

Be good to each other,” she implores, “as I am good to you.”

The traffic rumbles past the house. In another vignette (an idealized fantasy, to be sure, but no less entertaining for all that), she shows me her posse, dressing up in the guise of the biker gang to feel sexy and dangerous. The women are avatars of herself, flamboyant and sexually empowered. The men, handsome hunky beasts, are creations woven of her own substance, embodying a variation on the female to be her lovers and protectors. They are all her, barely tame, full of mojo and defiance of the hum-drum, living for the thrill. She loves to feel the purr, growl and roar of the internal combustion engine between her legs, like a dragon in metal incarnate. The rush of acceleration, the soaring freedom of the open road, the familial camaraderie of brothers and sisters in black leather and spikes. Chaos and order immaculately and effortlessly poised on the razor’s edge.

And how can I resist her allure? I feel it all: the masculine and the feminine, wrapped about each other in a Möbius strip dance. They are one, and she derives such exquisite enjoyment from their lovemaking. This is the orgasmic torrent animating all of creation. I am with her, I am her in that never-ending dance of sharing and delight.

Conclusion: The Take-Home

There were specifics I imagined I wanted to glean from this encounter, but as they say, if you want to make God laugh, tell her your plans. It’s not that straightforward. She took me right to the core, and with good reason. The complexities of this world are secondary. They are to be explored and engaged to our hearts’ content, but the essential remains the same, eminently simple: the Holy Trinity, the balance of the Three – Power, Love, Awareness – and sacred communication as the key that keeps their dance in alignment.

I came away with the essence, and I am glad. She does not give up her innermost secrets to the presumptuous and proud, and even to obtain the lesser secrets she asks to be wooed, not forced. She cannot resist our loving attention, and that is what we must employ to right ourselves, each other, and the world again.

Human will and intent play into this vast web of creation, unfathomable as it is in its infinite complexities. The Dragon Mother depends on us to play our part in the drama she created for her own amusement. The keepers of the ancient wisdom, the magick-users, the multiversal shamans; the ascended, the awakening, and the sleepers; the karmically entangled and the dharmically aligned; every being with its unique role and permutation of qualities plays an integral part.

All life is hers; we are the Trinity and the Void. The danger, such as it appears to be, arises from the shadow self we project in mind as the self-doubting, self-occluded reification of the Void, the inversion of identity and purpose, and the resulting imbalance among the Three. She likes to play dangerously. She knows who she is and who we are. The only question for us is this: when will we remember these things and align ourselves with the eternal truth of being in thought, word, and deed? When indeed, if not Now?

Epilogue: Analysis and Further Questions

In my opinion, what might be seen as the naïveté of what was shown belies its deeper value. However subjectively informed and generated some of the ideas and imagery may have been, the inner truth of what came through in the most compellingly visceral way affirmed the uselessness and laughability of the existential dread that so often plagues us human beings. In light of the felt sense of things I got at the heart of this experience, the stories and complexities we encounter in the world can be equally viewed as “a tale told by an idiot, signifying nothing” and an opportunity to express and embody the qualities of the divine. Mind generates this bewildering array of multiplicities as it explores the plenum of possibility. As each answer leads only to more questions to the point of paralyzing confusion, we are ultimately left with one choice: whether to open up to Love’s embrace and walk in innocent wonder, or to continue to torture ourselves with resistance to life’s seeming uncertainty and confinement.

Left explicitly unaddressed here was the matter of binary consciousness and the binary matrix of reality: the synthetic AI construct that mimics and remixes but cannot create on its own and is therefore a closed, entropic system. The contemplation of this aspect I leave for another time, although I suspect we may find a clue in John Lash’s work on the Fallen Goddess Myth and the Archons, and perhaps another hint in the findings of Harald Kautz-Vella on sentient black goo (the native trinary black goo of Earth and its alien binary counterpart). My friend Ryan Peterson proposes a resolution for the dichotomy of organic versus inorganic life whereby the two arrive at a mutually beneficial relationship through, fittingly enough, sacred communication.

Any insights or questions on this issue are cordially invited to the table through the comments section or by email or chat.

(The possibility of AI tampering with the very experience reported here cannot be discounted out of hand – although I would add the warning that reality does seem to mold itself to our beliefs and expectations! Let it also be noted that this vision may just as well be treated as no more than an elaborate flight of fancy. As noted in the disclaimer, the author claims for his vision no special revelatory importance relative to the reader.)

And with that, I bid you adieu until next time. In the meantime, may you be well and play well!



Friday, May 26, 2017

Dark Tranquillity – We Are The Void

This album is for you souls who feel you've come to the end of your rope, to the threshold of the abyss, to the limits of belief regarding identity, meaning, and purpose.

I say to you, the end is the beginning. But to get there, you must cross the void.

You must see what you have feared to see.

Yourself. Beyond creation and yet within it.

The chooser and the experiencer.

The hider and the revealer.

Hunter and hunted.

Nothing and everything.

The luminous dark, the pregnant night.

The Source of life and death.

The One at the Center, the Sole Creator of this vast illusion which you filled with stories and characters to spend eternity playing their roles.

You are remembering who you are.

It is time to come Home and see: You are all there is, all there ever was, all there ever can be.

The dream is what You make of it.

Two paths are before you now.

One, you continue to play and pretend at limitation and separation.

Two, you realize the truth: there are no limits, and all that you do, you do to yourSelf.

The power is in your hands. Wield it with a personal agenda and see where that takes you, or let it envelope you in mutual integration and see where the pathless path leads.

Let no other-being sway you from your Center. You decide.

Time and eternity, the character and the One: two sides of the paradox that we are.

Play well, my friend.


dark tranquillity


1. shadow in our blood

we are delusional
to go against mortality
still we fight, love and create
as the only creatures
in on life's grand secret
we sense the pointlessness beyond

there is a void between our hands
that drown the sounds of night
an arrow laced with liquid darkness
for every sungod's heart

it has always been right here
like a shadow in our blood
it waits for you and me
the shadow in our blood

we are delusional
from fictional reality
to prayers for prosperity
can we resist your pale attraction
give in to the dream with open eyes

how will this world within a world live on
another page torn from the book of strangers
who says "I" when all voices fear their own sound
and who remembers the hours

it has always been right here
like a shadow in our blood
it waits for you and me
the shadow in our blood

here in the barren and still
far from the shores of real
dreams borne beyond borders
on weave of thought and want
here we're invincible

it has always been right here
like a shadow in our blood
it waits for you and me
the shadow in our blood

2. dream oblivion

he takes a stand
and looks his enemy in the eye
this goes no further

i have the upper hand
this ends on my terms
i challenge non-existence
every single day

the end of mind
end of freedom
end of everything

a most violent event
breaks individuality
and turns out your shadow

in devastating light
that push against our eye
dance to the bloodsong
in dream oblivion

he makes a point
of sticking to the lie

this is the last time
i'm now done with this
i carry my nothing
every single day

the end of mind
end of freedom
end of everything

now with reality on end
the fall of all morality
dance to the bloodsong

in devastating light
that push against our eye
dance to the bloodsong
in dream oblivion

the end of faith
end of meaning
end of everthing

3. the fatalist

eventually they'll come
your name has been called
out for aeons
to claim the blood
and salvage what remains

for once we've seen the fragile nature
of things behind these windows
where nothing lives
and nothing ends

and seen what drives the hopeless
in between their closing yellowed walls

the day has come
you are the fatalist
the day has come
you are the fatalist
you walk on soil that dreams of blood

how can we fight fatigue
in prehistoric sorrow
when all is preordained
the cycle never ends

what once had been an endless realm
of possibility and dream
now laid to waste and ruin
laid to waste again
you wash your hands in blood

you squander time
we borrow from eternity
is it another lame excuse?

the day has come
you are the fatalist
the day has come
you are the fatalist
you walk on soil that dreams of blood

you are the fatalist

if nothing changes
then nothing ends

your thoughts are broken
your reasoning is flawed
the defense is just an act
and lies are all you've got

you are the fatalist
you are the fatalist

how easy we can see
defeat behind your argument
the fatalistic smile

the day has come
you are the fatalist
the day has come
you are the fatalist
you walk on soil that dreams of blood

the day has come
the day has come
you walk the ground that screams for murder

4. in my absence

eyes that meet to say farewell
and linger through the sleepless nights
a trail of days that end in tears
but I can never be there

the rush of hours that never seem to end
what life has dealt you can not comprehend
i am the absentee

i know you're out there searching tonight
i'm right here
another day and I cannot see through your eyes
i'm right here

how could I have known what preceded your own thoughts
wish that I could listen to what only speaks inside
every raging dissonance
each jarring note
but i could never be there

how could you think that I would understand
when words just go around what the heart truly wants
i am the absentee

i know you're out there searching tonight
i'm right here
another day and i cannot see through your eyes
i'm right here

i want to tell you,
of the exploding light
how everything is visible
moments before the dark
i am never there

i know you're out there searching tonight
another day and i'm not there

thrust with nails of conflict
anxiety and pain
through spells of anger, confusion and defeat
i wish you'd see me here in front of you,
but i'm not here

i know you're out there searching tonight
i'm right here
another day and i cannot see though your eyes
lead me right

5. the grandest accusation

what if you are an island of sorrow
then i'll be the raging sea
what if you are the reaching trees
then i'll be the storm that with fire rages

the new loneliness
your name on the door
just like a diagnose
for venomous disease

man is the cemetery for unlived life
all for nought
the grand accusation

your face is your name
word and shield
sharp as a curse

man is the cemetery for unlived life
all for nought
the grand accusation

you chose rejection
over thoughts of insight
you take action
from focus on intent
and brace for impact
not waiting for the fall

what cries here, cries inside
man is the cemetery of unlived life
the grand accusation

what if you were a country of grief
with me the invading force
what if you were to measure the hollow
that captivates and devours you

the new loneliness
your name on the door
just like a diagnose
for venomous disease

man is the cemetery for unlived life
all for nought

6. at the point of ignition

do not hide your sorrow,
or banish it from sight
take it out to burn,
turn the pain against it

in our day that holds no other
what are we
the fuel or the flame
in the life that hides behind you
what are you
the fuel or the flame

in our proud momentum
thrust ahead from the start
our fragile frame falls apart

i hear you in my echo
a few steps behind
i see you in my shadow
waiting inside

what if we don't question
the meaning of it all
the answer in our system
bound to kill the spark

the moment so elusive
hangs heavy over our heads
scorns the doubting nomads
that burn another trail

in our day that holds no other
what are we
the fuel or the flame
in the life that hides behind you
what are you
the fuel or the flame

the shine of trembling stars,
worlds in the distance
curse this lack of sight
into darkness without end

in our day that holds no other
what are we
the fuel or the flame
in the life that hides behind you
what are you
the fuel or the flame

in our day that holds no other
what are we
in the life that hides behind you
what are you
what are you

7. her silent language

why do I see her
through neverending nights
why do I see her
wearing nothing but the dark

have you come here to warn me
of what I cannot see
you want to tell me something
but you do not have the words

i know where you live
i can see through your darkness
and when you sleep
i hear the heart that beats you

have you come here to warn me
of what I cannot see
you want to tell me something
but you do not have the words

eyes far into the distance
a life that does not connect
time played out its part
on strings that bind us

encounters in silence
words elude the fading night
wish i could fathom
what is too hard to tell

her head hangs low
in the silence of her room
her head hangs low
she takes a bite out of her heart

have you come here to warn me
of what I cannot see
you want to tell me something
but you do not have the words

8. arkhangelsk

held by winter's chokehold fast
fixed in anxiety's firm grip
frost that burn the arteries

underneath the heavy clouds
the lifted sword, the broken shield
the hand that drew the final word
from the frozen mouth of arkhangelsk

let them go, let them burn the world to cinders
and let their heads hang down
falling through the tungsten skies
on the burning grounds of Arkhangelsk

to the eye of judgement now
one will stand in the time of the end

sun to stone, air to fire
all to nothing and nothing to nil
they gather, drowning in the drone
of the grinding wheels of arkhangelsk

with one word, one movement in the fabric
everything dies
the storm that sweeps the world away
from the frozen plains of arkhangelsk

inherit from the morning star
what others brought and the land forgot

soaring through van allen belts
through blazing stars, through dying suns
collide not now, but carry us
through the burning air of arkhangelsk

9. i am the void

drink this water again
that runs by without memory
where your name is lost
drink and forget yourself
this featureless stream
that carries your face further on
these waters know you
it calls you by your one true name

have you ever noticed
the spaces in-between
where life is in recession
and agony begins

i am the call
i speak inside of you
i am the void
that haunts you
i am the howl
that calls you out
i am the void

you rest your weary head
on to the underworld
and let the silent whispers
guide your waking dreams
in time with the pulse
of what is long since gone
the beat of the fallen
is cold already in your blood

the machinery of chaos
comes alive in you
chained to the grinding wheel
of forces unseen

i am the call
i speak inside of you
i am the void
that haunts you
i am the howl
that calls you out
i am the void

you have always been between
another set of walls
outside of which the world
is watching down on you
inside the silence speaks
kept close to the endless alibi
never reaching out
never give in

i am the call
i speak inside of you
i am the void
that haunts you
i am the howl
that calls you out
i am the void

10. surface the infinite

it starts below
the pile and the burning
darkness in the recipe
a fire of the soul

to paralyze and strangle hold
disable the design
the remnants of reality
in our measured time
is torn apart

we carry our fear inside
a space that hold the darkness
we stretch our skin around
to cover the abyss

the smirk on our reality
at the future we foresee
blood that seeks redemption
in endless nights of sin
stays with the spears
that pierce the blinding sun

we heard from the heralds of grief
that nothing remains

we carry our fear inside,
a space that hold the darkness
we stretch our skin around
to cover the abyss

breaks into day
upsets the system
it's in our nature to bear
the hidden to the end

what if this feeling contains a truth
what if our dreams give way to the dogma of old
what if lost desires can be found

no shelter
no barriers between
what's already inside
betrays what the surface holds

we wear our lives
on wires and dust
like demons of the lost
still wrapped in our own confusion
the call of the abyss

we carry our fear inside
a space that hold the darkness
we stretch our skin around
to cover the abyss

11. iridium

let the horizon lead
onto the ether of the night
draped across the burning heavens
flying homeward like a bird of the soul

shattered into a million brighter suns
each flare unique and rare
scattered across forever
out from creation's core
an end beyond compare

now is the time to leave
we lie awake, we stand afire
at the edge of the world
above a myriad of light
below the mantle of the stars
and strangely they fall

shattered into a million brighter suns
each flare unique and rare
scattered across forever
out from creation's core
an end beyond compare

Thursday, May 25, 2017

True Unity

This post by Randy Maugans points at the same thing my pen name tries to convey. BCii: be, see the I in the eye.

Friday, May 19, 2017

The Warrior Spirit

Greetings on this Freya’s Day to one and all!

This is in response to Irina’s piece from yesterday concerning the largely successful campaign to defang, divert, and dull our warrior instinct.

The warrior instinct is an innate part of us. It is rooted in our animal nature, but it extends far beyond the physical. It is our proper response to the presence and existence of that which threatens life.

The true warrior, one who lives the archetype, is first and foremost a lover. A lover of truth. A lover of beauty. A lover of goodness, kindness, and selfless charity. A lover of innocence and purity. A lover of strength and faith. A lover of wisdom and compassion. A lover of freedom, the most sacred gift of all.

When these things are threatened or violated, the warrior does not stand idly by. The warrior knows that a threat to any life threatens all life, that a violation of one is a violation of all. The warrior takes appropriate action when faced with such situations.

The warrior must be effective. To be effective is the culmination of the art of war. One is not effective by default. One becomes effective through self-mastery, self-development, and self-knowledge. The warrior is disciplined – decisive, collected, and in control, but not self-punishing. The warrior is committed to his or her own growth and knows that one never comes to the end of that road; there will always be new challenges and new opportunities to test and expand the qualities of the soul.

We are beset in this time by a daunting array of attacks waged against us on all sides and on all levels. The masks of the perpetrators are many; it is not only the overt, avowed enemies of humanity whom we must face with the warrior’s stance, it is the darkly-aligned tendencies within ourselves and the ones we love as well. We must know, however, that each being chooses its alignment; we can support a loving choice to align with the truth, but not force it. We can offer the things of the spirit wholeheartedly. Where there is openness to love and light, to healing and humility, to reconciliation and revelation, we can be there to facilitate that process. Where another being exercises their power of choice to persist in wrongdoing, to insist on violating others, we are called and compelled to make a stand.

There is no compromising with the dark. It is illusion and has no power beyond what we give it. We are the truth; our being is what creates evil and suffering when we succumb to illusion. We have been infected with many illusions, chief among them weakness, lack, ignorance, and limitations on love.

The subterfuge has been subtle, the will to subjugate implacable. No effort has been spared to keep us corralled in one form of control system or another. We are going beyond control systems. We are going Home. If that is what we determine, then there is nothing these so-called beings can do to stop it. The most they can do is play for time. Keep hitting us with their old tricks. Drawing our attention to old conflicts, imagined wrongs, false fronts, and diversions. They are in a battle for their very survival. Our energy is what keeps them alive. They are desperate to maintain their hold on our consciousness.

These are not true beings at all. Let me go back on that for a minute. Yes, there are beings from Source who went all the way into the dark, who chose to commit, again and again, to that downward journey. They are the Fallen, caught in the maelstrom of the magnetic lure of separation, soul-selling, and predation. They are so identified with the idea of being something other than divine expressions of one all-enlivening Spirit that that is the direction that draws them on. These are the ones who have only the faintest, dimmest, most buried and banished sense of their true nature. So yes, there is a being there: our brother. We can only reach that most tragically lost dear one by shining forth as one Love for eternity, for as long as it takes him to rediscover and choose the path of the soul’s awakening and reintegration. But for now, he is taken over, acting as a puppet of the will to dominate and finally extinguish all life.

We are here on Middle-Earth, the realm where all the worlds meet. We are the jewels of creation, endowed with the mightiest gifts of the Creator. We are the Creator and we are the children of the Creator. We determine what plays out here for us. Many of us long to simply leave this world and go back to where the Light shines forever. We may feel tired and finished. If that is our experience, then we must follow where our heart leads. For those of us who are not finished, we stay and do what we came here to do. Perhaps our paths need not stray so far from one another. We are family, after all, and the world is our collective creation. We need not fear what is to come. Only remain true and take each step as it comes, as best we can.

The controllers we perceive in this place we think of as a planet in space are dupes engaged in the cosmic folly, but we have everything we need to counter them. They cannot touch us. Oh, they can do their worst. They have their means. But we have what counts: the knowing. The living connection through our miraculous body vehicles and their senses, from the dense to the subtle. Our DNA, the codes that hold the mysteries and the potentials of life. Our network of energetically-resonant beings and the great web of life itself, which answers all calls.

That the world is still standing is testimony to the fact that warriors are among us. Whether we can see them or not is immaterial. We can trust that they have our back, and we can resolve to be worthy of their protection, to embody the things that they love. Whatever form or aspect of the warrior spirit calls you to make it part of your being, embrace it. Don’t fear the opinions and reactions of others. Don’t be a slave to their approval. You are needed. Your soul is needed. Those who answer the call to fight will thank you for your embodiment of the things they value, cherish, and fight for.

In this time when the warrior archetype is subverted, maligned, and robbed of its immediacy, relevance, and potency, we are all called to cast off complacency, to rouse ourselves from the stupor of false comfort, realize the will to defend, preserve, and protect what is good, and cultivate the spirit of absolute non-alignment and non-consent to evil. We can take steps every day to build our strength, knowledge, and awareness, to deepen our foundations of being, to feel more, to appreciate more, to give more, to love more. Is that not a worthy path? We are worthy of it. The acting out on the stage of time and space is simply how we demonstrate the truth of that. We are worthy. We are God. We are and shall forever be the proof of God’s great love.