Thu, 21 July 2011
A priest, our priest, my priest. He makes his confession, sitting before my glass eye, because priests confess to god, they confess the source of their loneliness to the emptiness beyond. Swathed in black, wearing my seal, face illuminated by the eerie blue glow of your magical tools, I see you and you gaze back in platitude. There is calm between us where there is none between you and the world. We can indulge in endless endlessness together, you step into it with me, commune with all of my aspects before going out to give birth to us in the world. In your way priest, you are another of my aspects, you are the hand of God, doing Gods work in the world. Silly world full of silly children playing games in fields of lies. I am beyond the fence where they play, you come and go as you please, shaman, priest, you come and go as you please, inviting them outside, carrying me inside with you. There are layers of metaphor to peel back unearthing more layers. Metaphors, which avoid the strict production of a singular reality. After all what is real? Why choose just one reality? This is the polygamist’s guide to the universe; why marry one idea when you can engage in unity with many? Ideas, words, music, a drum beat which is a heart beat, a moment that slips shuddering back into now. I am you and you are me and we are we, opening a crack to let a little light in and conceiving ourselves anew. Sitting in the belly of a howling metal worm I smile at the implicit sexuality oozing from your poetic assessment of a cataclysmic event. Shifting tectonic plates rend a tear in the ocean floor and the planet tilts on its axis disturbing the balance between light and dark. Why not simply say to me, open wide and take it? Because we are more slippery than that. We are moving faster than the speed of light, fast as the speed of love, making love with words and gestures, pure sound rumbling all around. We are the sound, we are the sight, we are the touch, the light. We are the fool careening on the edge, the white dog nudging him over the lip, the abyss, a kiss, we are this, we are that, we are that we are, a star-
Wed, 24 November 2010
It is not a one to one relationship. The words “neural flashes” don't accurately encompass that thing that I am trying to talk about. It's like interpretive dance, this swoop of the arm is symbolic, it is a verbal representation of something which exists and occurs outside of the mind and outside of the linguistic structure. Therefore saying something, saying anything at all, is a very creative experiment. Even technical manuals are avant-garde art projects when you consider them this way.
Thu, 24 June 2010
Text from "The American Book of the Dead" by E.J. Gold
Sun, 16 May 2010
Mon, 26 April 2010
In the beginning, the people of the fertile crescent worshipped a Mother Goddess. She was often paired with one of two Gods: the God of the Sky known as El or Horus, and the God of the Earth known as Baal or Osiris. While the sky God was often represented by a falcon or other winged beast, the earth God was associated with horned beasts, the bovines whose two horns and cloven feet signified that the world and its creatures were the result of a coupling, of savage lustful intercourse. While the Earth god clearly had sex and died and was reborn like the things that rise from the dark soil, the sky God by merit of his association with the vast and unreachable expanse above, grew ever more abstract, separate from the Goddess, above the God of the Earth. The worshippers of El told the story of how he came to their people and commanded that they should have no Gods other than him. In exchange he would give them a land all of their own. He insisted on being the only one, the one that rules from above. As a result of assuming this lonesome position as the only deity in the heavens, without a Goddess to keep him company, El gradually became an asexual entity, beyond desire, beyond passion, beyond lust. The worshipers of El, under the guidance of Moses, set about the task of being faithful to just one God and they sought out the land that they had been promised in exchange for their loyalty. However, old habits do die hard, and in the desert the people slipped naturally back into worshipping the Earth God recognized by their parents. Baal rose once more from the ashes in the form of a golden calf. It fell to Moses to remind the people of their covenant with the sky God. This he did with threats of punishment from above. The Earth God became a tempter, the eternal adversary of El, the locus of evil. When the followers of Moses at last reached the land they had been promised, they settled in and began to cultivate it. They might have remained a small and relatively forgettable cult had they not been conquered and carried away by the Babylonians and then later conquered and carried away by the Romans. In Babylon, they wrote the story of their agreement with the sky God in words weighed with regret and desperation. Sadness and resentment dripped from every letter of their tribal history, a fanciful mythology still popular to this day. When the Persian King conquered Babylon, he was agreeable with the worshipers of El and restored them to their promised land. That first defeat was important to the survival of El’s cult as it gave them the opportunity to to assemble their three ring binder, their linguistic and symbolic genetic code. In the long thick scrolls they established their history and stated their mission. It was, however, their later defeats under the dominion of the Roman empire that helped them to export their cult to the rest of the civilized world. Through the years, decades and centuries, that original cult underwent various mutations and broke off into warring branches: the followers of Jesus, the followers of Mohamed and the followers of Yochanan. But in all these branches, the central tenant remained the same: one God was to be the only God who ruled from the heavens above. El, an incorporeal, inhuman deity, a deity that, without a body, could not have sex and need not have sex, came to have a great following throughout the Middle East and Europe. The great rivalry between the God of the sky and the God of the Earth dictated that one and only one could be held as good. The other would be seen as evil. The more evil that the God of the Earth became, all the more evil was sexuality and the cycles of nature, including menstruation and death. And so we fear the darkness. And so we fear the end that is not the end. And so we fear the earth and the dissolution that comes with it. And so we fear the dissolution of our unity, the moment of openness where the opposites meet and the two Eternal Gods are finally, as always, one and the same. Again as it once was. Again as it would be. For now, El reigns above, lonely and diffuse, an empty void, lacking in meaning or direction, ready to be used by any and all comers for their own purposes and machinations. Baal lurks underneath, at the edges of reason, in the dark spots where language cannot go, the regions that humans avoid for fear of seeing their true nature.
Sat, 20 March 2010
Tue, 5 May 2009
I am clear and ancient knowledge, tested and proven, wrinkled but strong, slow but solid. In my eyes, the faces blur into each other, the boys are men, the men are corpses, the corpses give shade and my forehead is burning in the sun, as I look at the boys once again. Without any need of word or exclamation, I know of the singular impulse that runs through all the ones that now run around me. The tall man that is my mirror. The young girl that is my hands. There is so much I could say, so many tales to tell, so many burdens to unravel. But my years have taught me silence and my silence has turned into silky glimmering music, the kind that slides away between the chirping of the birds and the creaking of the branches in the wind. With a smile, I rush into their chest and push open the doors that remain shut in their stubbornness. With a little laugh, I can pull out tears from the most stoic warriors. I have traveled beyond words and I live in the land of shadows, without fear, without pity, without shame.
Wed, 9 July 2008
During the early 20th century and before, reality was assumed to be everything you can see, smell, touch, and hear. The discovery of the electron, radio, and x-rays turned that assumption around. By 1930 it was clear that 99.9% of reality is not contactable or apprehendable by the human senses, thus making us blind voyagers in an invisible world that may touch us without our knowledge. Society carries on relying on the old assumptions, looking away from the terrifying new gateway beyond its reach. But looking away won't banish the vast spectrum that engulfs us in its many colored hands.
Wed, 21 May 2008
The Ritual begins before it starts.
Sat, 15 March 2008
Tue, 19 February 2008
Birds and serpents.
Transfigure, transform, transfix.
Hail to the fallen, the mortal gorgon.
In flesh we find new doors.
Beautiful and horrible.
Fragmented to create the possibility of life.
To move, to dance, to live.
A point in every direction is no point at all.’
Creation is separation.
Separation is Death.
Hail Metus, living blood of the most ancient.
Embodiment of dark wisdom.
You who are your own birth and death.
Corrosive to one, restorative to another.
Goddess, woman, monster.
Hail to the fallen,
the mortal gorgon,
Sun, 16 December 2007
The labyrinth is this…it is this life- this experience in the body. The voyaging Being uses the machine to navigate through the labyrinth. The labyrinth is all around, all encompassing, and mostly invisible in the sleeping state. Driving down the street, one decision to make a left turn is a path, a new doorway with infinite possibilities ahead- the impulse to stop at a coffee shop is another.
"...your ancestor did not believe in a uniform, absolute time. He
Sun, 18 November 2007
It’s a story that travels in circles.
Sun, 7 October 2007
While traveling, somebody stops and asks me:
-Who are you?
Sun, 16 September 2007
The gods withdraw:
The great beasts come, Io Pan! I am borne
To death on the horn
Of the Unicorn.
I am Pan! Io Pan! Io Pan Pan! Pan!
Tue, 21 August 2007
Oh the earthly one had her plans for the tree of life.
From it she would fashion a bed in which she could sleep and a throne from which she could rule her terrestrial kingdom. She turned her eyes from it to allow it to come to fruition so that it could be harvested to yield worldly delights.
There was another use for it however, and while the earthly one was away a conspiracy of the life electric was hatched.
When earthly one came to claim the tree she found the clear seeing dragon coiled around its base. The earthly one trembled then because in the face of a dragon her pleasures would melt like dreams in the mornings rays.
Looking on she saw that her claim was even further disputed, for the maiden that steals light had taken up residence within the trees center and with such befitting neighbors the fierce and radiant Zu bird had made its nest at the crown of the tree.
This trinity prevented the harvest of the Halub tree as the earthly one dared not touch them. Instead the conniving whore of the world enlisted the help of a mortal man. He killed the dragon sending the one who steals light into exile as a demon of the night. The Zu bird was then forced to take flight.
Thu, 12 July 2007
Where are the boundaries?
The lines etched into our minds that dictate how we behave and interact with our world, tell us what is dangerous, what is safe, lovely, and frightening- how objective are they?
We move like animatronic pirates, revolving in the same circle in pursuit of wench and wine, endlessly running round and round.
But what is it that keeps us in formation, revolving without question. Are we afraid of the outlying caverns and doors that lead from our world into the sun drenched alien landscape beyond?
Or have we been lulled into a stupor by the repetitive motions of the entire clockwork fantasy, the mechanical motions of living acted out by ourselves and our peers?
We are chained in the invisible binds of conditioning. Such subtle bondage requires abnormal astuteness to be observed.
When we are asked to accept this or that, right or wrong, black or white, we are really being asked to forfeit our perception of everything in between.
When we sacrifice our vision to preserve contrived divisions we are absorbed into the machine, one more cog in a sleeping giant.
And our apathetic submission has consequences beyond our own miserly existence.
For one truth to rise all others must fall.
Consider that your choice to remain in the service of the sleeping giant because it is easy, comfortable, and sensible is a choice to send a myriad of worlds into exile.
Consider that whatever fate you sentence them to marks your own destiny.
Thu, 21 June 2007
Break your image into seven fragments and wait for the storm. When the womb has been prepared you may plant your seed. You will know the time is right when the light is broken in the sky.
Then you will journey to the red temple in the south. Sacrifice the first remnant of your form at the red temple. Be aware dreamer, that the seven temples offered themselves up long ago, you will find only the shards that remain here.
When the first is done travel southwest in search of the orange temple, where you will leave the second piece of your mortal representation. Be watchful for the presence of a sensual woman. This is how you will recognize the orange temple.
Seek out the yellow temple traveling Northwest. You will know it by the presence of winged creatures. Leave your third fragment and take to the road again.
In the North you will find the green temple. Here life finds a way around obstructions. Make your sacrifice and prepare your heart at the green temple.
Continue Northeast in search of the blue temple. There will be a stillness about the place coupled with unusual sounds. Leave the fifth offering of self in the music of the blue temple.
In the east you will discover the violet temple. The senses are heightened when you are in the proximity of the violet temple. In the stunning presence of the seemingly ordinary you must leave the sixth fragment.
Voyage to the center by traveling west unless there is a clear sign that the center is nearer than anticipated. The last temple is not easily identifiable. It must be recognized by it’s essence. Offering the final fragment of your image begins the initiation. Only an open and willing heart can carry essence without form. Only essence survives fragmentation. Only essence may voyage beyond this shard of a temple that offered itself up long ago.
Fri, 4 May 2007
A point mapping of luminous points of an object located in one region of space to points in another region of space, formed by refraction or reflection of light in a manner which causes light from each point of the object to converge to or diverge from a point somewhere else on the image.
Sun, 22 April 2007
You only have to allow beauty.
In some cases creation is a process of constricting and taming her,
Then the servants of Love will take on the work of loosing her binds.
Tear down the walls.
But a good collaborator will take care not to break her.
Sun, 1 April 2007
A crawling mass encases the most primordial treasure. The gauzy line dividing enthusiasm from violence is the difference between protecting and cannibalizing. We have nothing to protect, and it is so worthy of our service.
Take the dark road under the black and brilliant expanse. Keep an eye to the bright and burning jewels embedded in the blackness above.
As you travel this road you will have to loose mass. Shed your skin. Seek the water of life and bathe in it. Let the waters flow into your heart to sprout the wings which combine with your reptilian nature to birth a dragon. The way back into the world is down the same dark road.
As you travel it, take the expanse in with dragon eyes. Hold it loosely.
In the world, guard the treasure, but do not cling to it.. You are only holding it until death claims it again. If you were a servant of bad faith and devoured your keep, death will visit as devourer.
If you were pure of heart, the willing servant, death will be restorer.
Sat, 17 March 2007
If you are not awake you cannot make a real choice, you will be responding mechanically to whatever crosses your path.
To be awake is to be open, naked in a world swarming with Beings tucked away within heavy mechanized armor.
If you are not here, you are nowhere being carried on the tide.
You can only make a real choice if you are AWAKE NOW.
Not just reading and allowing your advanced mechanic data processor to apply this to its own mode of operations, or discard it due to its uselessness to that mode of operation.
IF YOU DO NOT EAT THE MACHINE, IT WILL EAT YOU.
Who’s processing who?
I am not this, I am not that, I am the breath within the breath.
Mon, 5 March 2007
Organic life is a long drawn out process of decay.
Without mortality to eat through, no Gods, without the Gods the cycle ends, an exhale without an inhalation.
Organic life that rejects the immortal is the equivalent of the Great Goddess aborting the new God growing in the womb, a universe gone cannibal.
An awakened cosmology is composed entirely of willing servants whereas an endarkened cosmology is built of warring masters.
Therefore you must choose to either become vulnerable or tyrannical, naked or dead, and your decision rules the fate of worlds within worlds.