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.

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 ॐ 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!

Love,

William

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

WE ARE THE VOID

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

loneliness

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 everything

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 will come

you are the fatalist

the day will 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 will come

you are the fatalist

the day will 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

defense is just an act

and lies are all you've got



now

you are the fatalist

you are the fatalist



how easy we can see

defeat behind your argument

the fatalistic smile



the day will come

you are the fatalist

the day will come

you are the fatalist

you walk on soil

that dreams of blood


the day will come

the day will 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, 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 am not here



i know you're out there searching tonight

i'm right here

another day and i cannot see though your eyes

i know you're out there

but 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 naught

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 naught

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 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

the 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

 (time of the end)

sun to stone, air to fire

all to nothing and nothing to nil

they gather, drowning to the sounds

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

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
 

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

i am the void

10. surface the infinite

it starts below

the bile and the burning

darkness in the recipe

a fire of the soul



to paralyze and stranglehold

disable the design

the remnants of reality

in our measured time

is torn apart



we carry our fear inside

a space that holds 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 holds 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 holds 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

iridium



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

iridium

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.

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.

The Extermination of the True Warrior Archetype

Click the image below to listen to the audio of me reading Irina's piece:

You can read more of Irina's writings at her site Unravel the Dream. For Mark Passio's work, visit his site What on Earth Is Happening. Both are also in the link list on the right-hand sidebar.

Let not that sacred fire grow dim!