Fairy Tales for the Insane, Part IV
Karma is more than a mortal can bear - A Buddhist Proverb
Once upon a time there was a man who lived a dedicated life. He embraced others, was always kind, assertive, and dreamed of a better world. One day, while he was traveling abroad, someone spotted the man and, out of malice, cast a curse.
The man, unaware of this offense, noticed that over the next few days people began to treat him badly, as if he were doing them wrong. As the months and years passed, his friends turned against him, and his family swore never to see him again.
He was left penniless, a nervous breakdown ensued. He wondered, “Why is this happening to him, was not he, as far as he can remember, good and fair to others?’. He heard a whisper ‘my son, this will change’. Soon, looking at the people wearing his broken, old, worn clothes, he noticed that something was happening to them. The women lost their hair, their skin became dry and dead after a while, they lost their cheerfulness, the men became sick and died of terrible diseases.
Being righteous, he began to blame himself and tried to hide from people, he withdrew from society. His compassion for others was too great to allow their suffering. One day he was strolling through a park at night and was robbed and beaten up by a gang of gangsters. He stood up and with eyes filled with hatred, the bitter resolve to use his curse to destroy others found its way into his shattered heart.
‘Why did this happen to him?’ - he asked disconsolately - ‘Why all this?’ While he was thinking about revenge, he heard a vicious whisper - ‘Why not’ - ‘it happened to me, why not, bastard’.
As he grew older he became more adept at controlling himself amidst the hatred felt by those around him, he was a master of discipline in dealing with others, and soon he rose in the ranks of the people, feeling more comfortable and strong than ever before.
They hated him, but admired his inner strength and keen intelligence. He began to make an awful lot of money, forgetting the rest and killing people for the pleasure of his curses against the cattle with which he once felt equal. His personality was thoroughly vicious and corrupt, cold in his cruelty and satisfied with his evil.
The day has come when he was in a car accident, another car rammed him as he was exiting a highway.
He remembers floating in the air for a while and hearing a disembodied voice that seemed to him like glistening gold: -’Have you forgotten your childhood, how it all began? - The causes that brought you here are not the effects you ever wanted.
Then he found himself in the hospital, no one around, just the full moon staring out the window. In the corner of his eye he noticed a dark figure and heard many whispers: ‘We accuse you, we accuse you, you have wronged us, death, accuse, you’. When he recovered, the determination grew in him to remember all that he was before the curse and never to break again, to overcome in spite of hell and to live a dedicated and selfless life.
The last woman in space
Times were volatile, markets shifted eastward as the Western hegemon fell apart like a leviathan without legs. The magnetic poles were also drifting, shifting and triggering magnetic storms and cosmic rays for the next couple of centuries or so until they would stabilize again. This was long overdue,as the climate changed with the vagaries of the geomagnetosphere relative to solar connectivity.
Solar domes, fusion-powered tokamak generators to stabilize the planet, a far-fetched dream of utopian city-states all fell into disuse, the prototype in France, Cadarache, failing due to lack of funding and internal unrest. Nevertheless, there was a minor breakthrough in one of the DARPA labs just before humanity was on the brink of war.
The Chinese built 1320-ton statues for the God of War. In research facilities based on a collection of digital ID -s quantum computer algorithmization and mass radionics, the collective brain was slowly being decoded, as were its cognitive-physiological mechanisms, social engineering programs along with cruel experiments on the mind with psychiatry on the banners merging with neurolinguistics and merging with biopsychology gave a new imprint to a strange, eerie reputation. The first prototype cyborg was called ‘the bee’ as the real representatives died out.
With the creation of the first fully functional cyborg came a commendable optimism that the dark ages were over, that humanity had once again entered a new era here. The volunteer father of the project, researcher Simon Darwin, and his assistant Helen Descartes had not only created the cyborg, deciphered man’s erratic mind and created a synthetic brain, but also agreed to transfer his brilliant mind into the machine’s thinking framework. He said he was the first immortal, the Nibelungen Methusaleh.
Hearing the news, one man initially flew into a rage, but when his colleague calmed him down, he said in a resigned voice, “It’s like transferring a mind into a corpse, a technological necromancy, nothing else. The Buddhists explained the samskaras as compound clusters, and the goal was to dismantle them in order to refine consciousness, reflect its purity, and become free.
What they do is essentially to lock the deluded, ignorant mind into a self-created horror chamber and virtualize an already virtualized hell.”-’Why the hell?’
Aida said: -’Surely you are not postulating that there is a reality outside this world, some metaphysical nonsense? Humanity’s concentrated effort has always been aimed at freeing itself from suffering. You cited Buddhism as an example, is not that the ultimate goal, and you are a modern Luddist who is afraid to deal with technology?’
Again he replied, ‘Maybe you are right, but I prefer the good old biomantic school, life has been laid out in this universe for billions of years, was not it for a purpose? Or are we really a plague of the void, to become machines that traverse the void to colonize, to beget spirit, to constantly expand? It is true, our species has its limits, it is not eternal as an organism, as an ape striving to be divine.
Ancient people had more intellect than we have today.
When we are all transferred to the cybercore, what will come? A digital eternity inthe cold fires of dark energy? I have to come to terms with that now. I did not know the sequencer technology the Psiops stole would lead to something like this. What’s next? Now they are going to build the Hyperion arc. All right, I am done with the credits. It should be an arc for the living, not a tomb for the dead. Aida replied: Your job is done, old man, at least you were of use to the company. By the way, I have been employed since then. I will contact the agency, you can spend the rest of your days in a place surrounded by greenery. You know, a forest and a small house, just like you always dreamed of. Someone is waiting for you there.
He fell silent, his gaze vicious and cold, as life had taught him, and he whispered, ‘Fuck you, fuck you.’
Aida: If you do not want to sit here and spend the rest of your days as a loser, you can sign a new contract if you want, they have already promoted me to Star Lieutenant, new ranks, cool, huh?’
He stared out into the universe, trying to rest his eye on a tear he once had, and whispered, -’Fuck you all’- ‘Then that’s settled’ - said Aida, leaving the apartment and quietly closing the door.
He sat in his armchair, pleasantly stunned, and once again did not know if itwas the honest part of him or an act he made up himself. He would rather believe itwas honesty. For a while he remembered the embrace of someone from another time, she was killed, replaced, swept away. - ‘Where does she live now, how is she?’ - he pondered ‘I do not want to know’ - he remembered seeing her face in the stars.
The project was widely advertised, many volunteered, only the best minds were selected for transfer, or the richest. Some had euthanasia injections given to them, which killed them after the mind transfer, it was like a fashion statement to be a cyborg. The first colonizer arc was full of mind clones in machines and while humans cheered their superior class of beings, some wanted to protest.
Some were reasonable moderates, others were religious fanatics. The former tried to reform what was left of the planet, the latter howled time dead and tried by all means to convert others to their one religion.
Soon a war developed, a global bloody war, the survivors retreated to the deserts with their crosses and taught others about ‘the book’. Others werewandering scavengers, few wanted to organize and soon formed paramilitary cliques, but the birth rate was almost zero because of the yellow dust and winds that developed after the re-polarization. Nuclear meltdowns everywhere after the Carrington event, failure of satellite communications. Between the
Atlantic only fiber optic cables worked, communication was maintained for a while with generators, but soon contact between continents was lost. Great wind storms brought a lot of sand from the deserts, which rarely settled anywhere, it was a whirlwind of an air dune. The sixth extinction. -’It was our fault’ - they all said in the end.
He died before all this happened. He did not know it, but the last words he spoke were, ‘Wings of the ancestors Ennoia, take me back, may this hell realm of this lying corpse come, yellow planet, black planet, take me back.’
It was all in vain.” Then he drank Nembutal and, after 15 minutes, set fire to his apartment while looking at the full moon in Libra, which was conjunct HD 140283, a star of magnitude 7.223. Between fires, he smiled. Some said only a man freezing to death feels a divine fire just before he is raptured into the stars - he heard this fifty years ago in a psychiatric hospital from a fellow patient. On his deathbed, this thought did not occur to him. He knew it and smiled.
After resetting and activating their synth brains, the human clone
ID’s woke up. There was something wrong with the cruiser, a technical glitch.
The main plasma conduit had failed. The cyborgs did not panic. They bickered and blamed ‘the humans’. It was probably damaged during the warp.
An old businessman remarked: -’Mighty were the towers of the Ziggurats, they built them for the stars’. Immediately after, the shielding collapsed and pieces of the exquisitely three-dimensional, nanoprinting, industrial-sized Titanium-1 alloys began to fall off. The last one was Aida. She was smart and hooked up to the spine charger. A tough, survivalist girl on Earth, she had an unkind childhood, grew into a highly disciplined, analytical ‘bitch’ - as she was called in academic circles - and eventually attained the title of ‘genius,’ ‘mistress of the lab,’ ‘alchemist of high tech.’
Before Aida was hurled from the space shuttle into the cosmic void, ready to wonder in the voids of the cosmos for as long as her charge cells lasted, she thought:
-’Why are we alone’.
With her pseudobionic eye, she saw a flash. She gave the command, ‘Scan all spectra.’
-’That’s not necessary,’ her cybernetic brain listened inside.
She noticed a sliver of a face in silver and gold, magnificent, radiant, outshining her for a while. The last thought before she was torn apart was, ‘It’s me, I am her, finally, what did we do wrong?’
The alloy of matter that made her up was torn to pieces. Her nanotic processor was destroyed.
A glorious song rang out and thundered through the universe as everything returned to a gigantic calm to be no more. The earth, after time had passed, was green again.
A modern Du Fu gloomily
May the red dragons rejoice on the wind, carried by their human companions, may the evil of greed, disbelief and sorrow dissolve into nothingness - with wishes. With the Chinese New Year just around the corner, I feel compelled with the remnants of my dignity to write a short story about a humble, beautiful Chinese man.
Once upon a time, there was a man born somewhere in Inner Mongolia whose ancestors once fought in the Black Dagger Uprising. It was a group of dedicated warriors who protected the peasants first against the excesses of the Japanese and then against the communist government until it was dissolved. He toiled in the fields, and in search of a better life, he moved to nearby Beijing to work in a factory. With little means, he settled in a terrible multi-story apartment block where he lived in two square meters for what he could afford. He still remembered his grandmother’s stories about the yellow flags and red lamps when the Republicans tried to rally around the young emperor Pu Yi.
Times were volatile, the boy was not promising, the government changed often,the emperorship was corrupt. She told him the story of a poor man who toiled in the fields and met a dakini. Her beauty was amazing, she was bathed in the light of the rainbow and wore red and green luminous cloths. She danced around him and said, “I am a wish-granting jewel and you are a humble man, what would you like?’ He smiled with his rough earthy face and said, ‘a good woman’. She nodded her head and disappeared like the dew of rain.
In tears, he remembered this story of his grandmother and continued to work in the factory, hoping that one day he too would see the dakini.
He saved all his money for a gift. It was a wooden box beautifully decorated with jade and gold. Inside was an obsidian ball studded with silver. He kept this gift for her. Since he was losing his eyesight, he bought a pair of glasses and was very happy and proud of them. He took good care of the glasses, but one day when he returned to his small apartment, he lay down and never woke up.
A man aged 32 who lived in Warsaw, Poland, a rather vicious personality, read Chuang Tzu with awe, pondering his thoughts and reveling in his work. Ah this, ah this.
He fell asleep at two in the morning. He had a dream in which he was presented with a dark room with some furniture. He felt an invisible presence and heard some soft Chinese words with slow thoughts. It was a ghost. The spirit directed him to a wooden box and said, ‘Look, this was a gift for my wife’. The man admired it, congratulated the spirit and bowed respectfully. Then, full of joy, the spirit showed him a pair of glasses and he said: -’Look, what beautiful glasses’.
Not wanting to offend the spirit, he admired them and thanked him sincerely. Then, in a flash, he became aware of the story of his life as he wept for the spirit. He whispered through the tears, “May the great Dakini take you, the spirit of the old man, to herself, may you join her, may she take you as her husband.”
The man woke up, tired of his own cruelty, and to this day he thinks fondly of the old man’s spirit and wishes that he had found happiness and peace. Such was the story of the spirit of an old man, such are the dreams of a simple man. May it be a sign and a hint to the lamp of a hermit.
Autokraton or anarch?
We always create ideal figures that reflect us and that we like to think about. Anarch was to Ernst Juenger, a man of great experience and wisdom who lived through both wars, as the vision of Autokraton was to me, a man who transformed his madness and his ‘as if’s’ into a super ID figure that I wear like a mask that sometimes carries me, retreating into normal human ‘games and play’ like an ethical psychopath, a medium with fragmented personalities, carried by many, ruling myself and harmonizing the splinters into a generous whole - deformed here, nurtured there, strictly bound, let go.
Autocraton, self-governing. A master who commands and rules himself, without forcing, hurting, ruling, overpowering anyone to prove his command. A sole ruler of his mind and heart. A ruler of his spirit, ruling his body, mind and heart, commanding them as a servant from within and above. Just as a mendicant can be an autocrat, so can the imperial crown.
It is not about wealth or status, but about the form of the genii, mind and heart, the meaning of one’s name and spirit. The moments of being a dragon, the courage to roar like a lion, to retreat like a hyena, to bitch like a raven.
Someone who, in his willpower, penetrates the minds and hearts of many people with great insight and absorbs patterns of wisdom, knowing the spirit of times, people and the laws of change. The one who knows himself and from this knowledge of himself and knowledge of causality, cause-effect, cause and effect, patterns of information, data, knowledge, decision, judgment comes to truly effective conclusions with a bigger picture in mind, a vision that is overarching, that rises above the rest, that comes not from sophistry of borrowed wisdom, butfrom true observations determined by experience that may or may not be based on knowledge and teachings of all times.
The foundation of a ruling autocrat is justice, the means to achieve it, the means to harmonize power, the means to distribute it, the means to consult it with the divine is a Solomonic wisdom. Or to do justice to women - the proverbial Solomon is dethroned, the Assyrian Semiramis who surpassed him emerges! Justice is subtle and springs from the inner truth and strength of wisdom, it is the feather of Ma’at on the scales of hearts. The foundation of a self-controlling autocraton is his detachment and his ability to fight gigantomachy without great loss to his genii and spirit.
He can be a cosmic swindler, a commander of madness, a master of his madness. Moreover, he is able to influence himself and the people by radiating a charismatic aura and directing the crowd, for better or worse, in a great sanity and an ethical direction, complete madness (a self-controlling mad child), or some other vision of the mind.
A man whose ferocity comes from nature, whose firmness of character comes from his spirit, whose principled backbone comes from education and reason, andwhose reverence and loyalty to the divine comes from intellect and philosophy, is unshakable and will not be swayed by any crooked plan, and if he is -then only temporarily, after which he returns to himself like a blade of grass - moved only by honest wisdom and expertise, critically evaluated in the light of better judgment. Autocrats do not fight, they support each other in a Symposion of excellence, like bees working for the good of the whole. They have no enemies, in the sense of the Buddhist proverb: ‘The enemy is the word of the other’, as soon as they are drawn into the perspective of the so-called ‘enemy’, they lose their independence, they are caught in the threads of attachment to the object of their thought.
The reverence for the divine, an architectural idea, the masterful mind, the sovereign thought, the whip to shape the darkness, the shield to protect against it, the scythe to reap, the scale to distribute the harvest, the
Ankh to behold life, the staff to rule, the laurel wreaths to receive and give blessings, the ear to listen to counsel, wisdom to judge, valor to act, a horse to survey land and people, the dagger to cut through ignorance and deception, and a star to give and receive agape-this is a worthy man, this is a worthy woman. In the Book of Changes it is written that the enlightened priests recognized the source of evil, while the magicians eliminated it and the officials and ministers ruled in the service of the whole.
The evil that men do
I lit the candle in a candlestick given to me by my beloved. In memory of myself, my family, loved ones and close ones to my ancestors. I imagined a big, wide darkness and lit the candles in the underworld. For all the forgotten dead. Sigilaria. In ancient Rome, men were sacrificed to the Dis Pater, slaughtered like sheep, for I read in Macrobius’ ‘Saturnalia’ a writing of the tradition he offered to his son. The custom was replaced in the kingdoms and later in the Roman Republic by the lighting of a candle andthe making of white masks instead of sacrificio, the killing. Di Manes, the good dead, ancestors of mine and of others, without distinction of ethnicity, custom, religion, region, skin colour. Those who remained, who are in the mists of the underworld, like small schools of fish on the surface of a great abyss. First my own lineage, then that of others. This is nepotism. If we identify with those close to us and admire, love and respect them, we can spread this to the rest of our race. That is how it should be done.
I turned off the lights. A shadow demon, befriended, to my left, growing out of an open closet as if it lived inside, a twisted black face flashing white face-like deformities, a little night person I treat like an adopted son.
A beautiful white spirit touched me and put a ribbon with inscriptions over my arm
arm. All at once, our time is slow compared to the astral world. Some shadows just stand there, caught in a long thought, and after the shouting is over, they all whisper or fall silent. Because the living do not listen, because they do not hear. I see them because I myself am dead. At least partially, because my heartbeat and biological processes are largely undisturbed, strengthened by some strange magic. The night came, I lay in my bed and listened to Offermose - Mørkt Forår feat. Of The Wand & The Moon, Grift, a feminine fiery shadow kissed me,
I touched her hand, a shadow witch was carving something on my skin with her pointed long finger, or was it a nail. It is all black, covered with writings, stories, lies and information for others. I opened my eyes and saw the mask of a man contorted in grotesque pain. The dead inhabited my body.
I asked this friend, ‘What made this world so evil?’ - Which echoed as a naive question in my own head. Tough little bastard. I forgot my vicious pain, little tortured pleasures interrupting the heaviness and severity. A certain lightness from time to time, a focused, humane lightness that was nevertheless strong.
-’The people did it’ - she answered through me.
I remembered reading the history of Assyria and Babilonia, Elam, Chaldea, Cambridge Ancient History vol. 3. part 2. I remembered the Akkadian literature and the stories of men, demons and gods
- ‘The people were greater, but not much better’ - I thought. - ‘Why is that?’-
-’You have forgotten that the possibilities of doing evil are much greater, your race has evolved a lot since then’ - she replied
-’What has corrupted the people?’ - i asked
-’They have always been like that, but their evil has contaminated other worlds.’ - ‘I refuse to accept that’ - I said - ‘If humans are capable of beauty and greatness, how come?’ - i asked her
-’Animal man, participating in nature, was a child of nature, crookedness began when he was capable of the divine, then he closed his eyes to the origin and made nature his enemy, while in time he forgot the divine’ - she replied
-but there were methods to overcome suffering and evil, the Hindis and the Buddhists knew them, others too,
-’These methods are consigned to oblivion, there is a scheme’ - she whispered.
-’What kind of scheme?’ - that aroused my interest
-’A deep scheme concerning the fire of chaos, which attacks the lower regions of the divine
‘It has its effects,’ she replied.
-”Are monkeys evil?” - I asked like a child. “Only humans can be so bestial and idyllic”
-”That’s the price of making a child of nature a god, as if capturing the divine in the animal” - she said
-”But it’s not unique, it’s like a whole plan was worked out to capture it, is there more?” - Inquired.
-”Desire” - “to be out of one’s senses” - “to live” - “Man is not made for happiness” - she expressed.
-’But should we then blame the gods, judge what is good or evil?’ - I asked.
-’Do not you dare, they are your friends, a toil of ages, the infinity of the past behind your race, the infinity before you’ - she answered softly.
-”Some say we are made of the blood of Aw-Ila, an Igigi god, to toil like the rebels” - I said
-”Then be free” - the last whisper before she left. -”But do not spurn this world like those who hated it” - she gathered her strength and disappeared.
Mephistopheles prerogative: clueless Boddhisatva
“Then who are you?” “I am a part of that power which eternally wills evil and eternally works good.” - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust: Part One
In Mahayana Buddhism, it is the final net effect of one’s actions, neitherone’s intentions nor one’s deeds, for which one is held karmically responsible. By what action? One might ask. Through the co-dependent, co-existent world of phenomenal events themselves, which are governed by various orders of justice, natural, human jurisdiction and law, transcendent, divine, objective physical, etc.
If we define justice as a Platonic idea, it can be understood as a ‘reactive, regulative factor of the harmonies of deep transcendent and objective laws’. If we define justice with a classical notion, it is a ‘regulative codification of human experiences, ordering them according to social regulations, derived from situations that require moral or ethical judgments and decisions’, then the strict Mahayana definition of justice would be something like the ‘reactivity of karmic causation networks to the actor who participates in them’
Power, justice, responsibility.
The more power one accumulates, the greater one’s responsibility for the net effects of one’s choices, even though one is already enmeshed in networks of power and causality when one enters the scene. Each burgeoning consciousness, each new birth, enters into a pre-existing web of relationships. When a leader causes deaths or condones bombings of civilians, leads to poverty and deprivation, and lives in a ‘castle of delusion,’ responsibility for his actions traces everything back to the causative effect - the leader. The soldier who kills on the battlefield is responsible for his own karman, but his karman is linked to and traced back to the leader who ordered the killings, through ‘distributive co-responsibility’ with various weights of nods to the network.
From Bardo Thodol’s point of view, only madmen want to put their minds in a position of power these days. Or very willingly - for whatever reason. Thus Mephisto, the old devil who in the Buddhist context ‘wills evil that always turns to good’, is an example of an absolute inversion, where he appears as a saint by the net effects of his actions, but as an ontic entity can be outright evil. He is better than a sacrosanct devil who causes evil through the will to do good, but still better than the absolute evil of the Black Brothers, which only leads to evil through the will to do evil.
Remembering that good is a golden chain and evil is an iron chain, why not remember people like Milarepa, a black tantric magician who, according to legend, wiped out entire families with his mischief, but became a supreme Boddhisatva through his efforts to “break the shackles.” Not all of us are so fortunate, but the highest good, which I instrumentally define as the Platonic Monad, is a pan-theistic view and can be derived on earth from reason, wisdom, insight, and the ability to grasp and penetrate all causality with understanding, to make ethical decisions, principled judgments on how to prevent, remedy and alleviate evil in terms of the Hindi Buddhist kleshas (suffering, destructive emotions, disturbing emotions, negative emotions, mind poisons), e.g.For example, the ‘five poisons’ described in the highest terms as: ignorance, attachment, aversion, false pride, envy, and all forms of delusion that prevent realization.
Ethical and moral judgments and decisions require a cosmos or order. The original cannibals of Malaysia did not care too much about the zeitgeist of this order - it was established with the changing, shifting times. So is it void and relative? The question is wrongly posed. Rather, it is a form of human psychic forms, groups, and individuals that began to congeal and consolidate around certain factors with the advent of self-reflection and methods invented to counter what was considered ‘impure, taboo’ (bad) and to promote what was considered ‘holy, clean, permitted’, ‘sacred, clean, permitted’ (good), with shifting frames of reference for different moral concepts’, which later developed into a social order based on values. It’s not all doom and gloom, because there are things that are common to all humanity, that is undeniable, unless there is a ‘zombie catastrophe’. What constitutes the value of a given society is what defines it. If profit is the value, then it is superseded by principles and makes people subjects - slaves. Values can be divided into external states, which have to do with the quality of the environmental milieus, or ‘what is sought in the world, what is, what should be, what is desired’ or internal states, which have to do with the quality of the subjective and intersubjective sphere of mind (noosphere), the emotional and spiritual states ‘how we feel, how we think, what we are, what we want to be, normatively or descriptively’. Only when value is internalized as a principle directly related to human being: virtue or vice, it defines human essence, perhaps humanity or the ‘lack thereof’. After all, everything is ‘all too human’, ‘live and let live’, ‘beyond good and evil’ one finds one’s own ethos, hopefully not a perverse, sadistic or nightmarish ethos. Ernst Juenger wrote: ‘A warrior may have his ethos’, morality is another matter. But his ethos has a twist: May the dead be merciful to their murderers, for the dead may not have a warrior ethos, but they have a strange kind of morality all their own. Understanding karmic necromechanics enters the realm of postmortem justice. But why wait for justice after death when it can be realized here and now to create beautiful, thinking, committed and responsible human beings who draw from the wisdom treasuries of all civilizations and cultures. As one might say, ‘Karma may be more than a mortal can bear,’ so are the destinies.
On the narcissistic stupidity of the darkness of ignorance.
See, for I will expose the workings of the abject stupidity of the ignorant, who in their jealousy, in order to be victorious, must reflect their own depraved inadequacies in others, in order to be victorious, must poison a greater man with their own vile filth. For wiser serpents, among whom I count myself as Solar Drakon, a fierce enemy of both darkness and Judeo-Christian abomination, including their rotten corpse nailed to the cross, know how these wretched slaves approach their goal, the intelligent one, the intelligent they offer a bigoted religion, the astute they offer filthy bribes, the strong they try to ruin their nature, the virtuous they contaminate us with vice, the knowledgeable they offer blindness and lies, the free they want them to kneel like wretched slaves.
For darkness and ignorance cannot conquer greater men, it must cripple their minds and lives to replace their minds and hearts, to poison them so that their pettiness and pathetic, worm-eaten attitude conquer us first by violent attacks from without, striking like wild pigs, and then from within, poisoning the innermost thoughts and minds of the giants who tower above them. The darkness is made up of rats who can only maintain their vermin through reflection and imitation, and it is jealous of greatness, glory and the triumph of the
It is jealous of the greatness, glory, triumph of the Aionic solar providential intellect, its support and prestige, its superior position over the locusts, which are reduced to infinitesimal crippled worms by a single ray emitted by the sun, while it plunges Apophis, the wyrm, into the abyss at every attempt of attack. Their ruler, Apep, a bitter critic of the dark sun, dispatches his worm-like emissaries and on the surface of the Earth’s surface, vile enforcers, petty bacteria, planktonic idiots, stooges of this deluded power ceaselessly approach our minds and hearts, poisoning them with ignorance, replacing our virtues with vices, breaking us helpless, blind, until we become worms like themselves.
Only in this does darkness triumph - it turns the great into worms, forit consists of mere worms who think they are warriors or knights.
They lie creeping at our feet, as sun dragons we scorch them with fire. Our tribe of serpents, the dragons, abhor any deception, ignorance, inadequacy, any wormy belief, for our scaly armor is made of acid fire and courage, as long as these swine do not break us in our mortal human shell into the inversion of our aspirations, our strength, our astute intelligence and commitment. Cut. Them. Down. Stomp them down. Crush them. Destroy these wretched worms whenever you encounter them. May they never get their hands on any of us, this planet or the human race. May the tribe of the Winged Serpent, the immortal Winged Kheper Hearts and the glorious Sun Disks triumph over these pathetic worms.
A story about the spirit and the mistress
-When will my suffering be over? My mind is broken, rotten, vampiric, full of errors, paroxysms of cognitive and affective range, scandalous twitches and errors. I have to survive it. The Buddhists did not imagine a bunch of vampiric rogues experimenting on my brain, a tale of cybernetics and sadism. ‘I guess another time, another age,’ lamented one man that night
-’Do you remember what state your mind was in ten years ago?’ - Mistress Sosipatra, the seeress of the Greeks, spoke to him in gentle thoughts which the man mistook for his own. The silent conversation continued.
-’Definitely different from now, it was something else’ - he answered, thinking he was talking to himself.
-’What is the most static part of your being’ - The Mistress
-’Well, my body’ - he replied
-’you see, that is so, and not only that, that is the only moment of reality you will ever experience from a human point of view. Another magician once said (AOS), is not your mind ultimately a concatenation of causes, made up of sensations, experiences, identities, memories, inclinations, natures, conditioned and autonomous responses, choices, etc.? - The mistress asked
-’That’s so, but it’s difficult to perceive it that way, everything appears as a derealized illusion’, he replied.
-’that is so, but you must be aware of it and seek the core of your being from a safe position where you find static parts of your mind and coordinates in what you perceive, in other words, the flashes of events called the world, you always need a point of reference, and then you shape yourself to bind certain expressions and let go of others’ - said the seer - ‘It is a matter of sense, direction and discipline’ - she continued.
-’But do I dissolve after death? Would not that be preferable?’ - he asked
‘It is not so simple. You arise in a world that already exists, and you are caught in a web of causes, along with the various souls of your being, including your mind and body. May it not distract you from liberation, but this is a distant goal, to extinguish all the karmic movements of the universe a sheer impossibility, to exhaust them in yourself is a rare quality nowadays, if you cannot yet reach the state of Pari-Nirvana, what would you do with the chain of being?’ - asked the Lady
-’To obtain it?’ - asked the man
-’If the mind is an illusion, why preserve it, it is a form of self-destruction, we might as well become cyborgs’ - replied the mistress
-’Is not it the paradigm of the modern world that there is nothing but the mind, in the naive sense, and that scientists struggle to explain this phenomenon on a neural basis?’- He asked
-’there are components that do not fit into their paradigm, you have found another way as a pneumatic, as a souled person. ‘You can not fight the paradigms of the modern world, but you can fight your own way out as long as you stay in this Dionisian tomb,’ said the Lady of Chaldeana
-’If I were to ask the gods to create a new spirit for me to continue my existence, what would it be?’ - he asked
-’Imagine your consciousness changing into a new vehicle and being born in a new disincarnated world, you receive a new movement of existence - replied the glorious mistress
-’But if everything is an illusion, then what is the point of continuing to exist in one of the worlds, as a shadow, a ghost, a daimonion, an angel, a hero, or in one of the myriads of worlds?’ - he asked.
-’Reach the equilibrium of compassion and recall the rest until the chains of being are over and we all retire to the final rest’ - he answered - ‘The purpose of the great work, tris-mae-gistos, is to descend to pass the consciousness through the necessary seals and later to ascend and transform into a deity, held, angel, purified soul, with the support of the elders. The toil of the great work is to commit oneself to the cosmic expression, knowing the laws of the changes of the cosmos and adapting oneself to the divine will to participate in a greater chain of being. - Said the Great Lady
-’How can I thus outlive my own mind, when I am incapable of performing this task’ - he replied.
-they greatly underestimate themselves, as Nichiren said to Shijo Kingo in 1276: ‘Never be troubled by the difficulties of life, after all, no one can avoid problems, not even saints or sages, suffer what is to be suffered, enjoy what is to be enjoyed’ (. . . ) - the mistress recalled a fragment of a text he had read some time ago.
He put his thoughts together and was amazed at what came to him. As he stared into the night sky, he thought he saw silver-gold wings with the Caduceus Staff in the centre, appearing and disappearing out of nowhere. He wondered a lot, calmed down after a while and fell asleep.
Idea, narrative, reason, action!
Any form of discourse or narrative study should never be divorced from group and individual psychology, for that is to measure the results of a particular subject.
Take the idea of witchcraft from the European Middle Ages. While parallel civilizations, e.g. Hindi (spreading faith and magical-spiritual techniques) and Arabic (pro-science) were at their peak, most Hindi practices were branded as ‘witchcraft’ by the overzealous inquisitors of Europe Europe. The term ‘witch’ is as broad as its usage, whether we mean a prophetess, a seeress, a priestess, a herbalist, a sorceress, a necromancer, and so on. Exactly what area of the magical arts is she proficient in, what skills does she have, what position or profession does she hold, and similar questions apply to her male counterpart, of course. In general, these concepts, words, abstractions add up to a whole framework of a network of ideas, while the Cathedrals of memory and universes of discourse are built, adapting meaning and content to the context of symbolism and belief system of the time and age.
For example, witchcraft in the Greco-Roman period was understood differently through the lens of Greco-Roman religions and cults than it was through the symbol and belief recognition apparatus of Christianity. One would have to examine in depth the phenotypes of these cathedral structures and what the visitor perceives when visiting, or the phenotypes of seeing and feeling both the structure, the ‘general impressions of the esthetics of the whole’ and the modus operandi of seeing and understanding the content in particular, with all its undercurrents. Any interpretation of an existing ‘insider’s’ perspective perspective is fraught with the prejudice of pareidolia [parά, “beside, alongside, rather than [of]” - in this context meaning: alternatively) and the noun eidolon (eἴdwlon “image, form, shape” - the diminutive of eidos)] refer to belief systems in this context, whereupon one sees relevant phenomena only through one’s previously acquired belief systems, distorts the factors that are crucial to understanding the phenomena, and nihilates any content that is incompatible with the belief system.
This is a trained skill that is highly counterintuitive from the perspective of self-preservation of habitual belief systems. As with all forms of study, effort must be put into this skill. The objective skill is trained in a similar way. As a spectator, one has a more objective viewpoint than the committed actor, as long as one can also discern well and is open-minded to the ways of the latter. An objective theological scholar who is, for example, a professor of Sanskrit and a comparative mythologist, will view an uneducated believer indulgently and objectively without being involved in his ways of perception and without being entangled in his belief system or his ways of acting and perceiving.
It is likely that an uneducated believer who has a set of beliefs, such as Christianity, and no basic knowledge of Buddhism will not have an educated and far-sighted view of Buddhism, and that his way of perceiving Buddhism will be thwarted by his pareidol bias. a person who is ignorant of others will not see anything beyond his own understanding, as far as his ignorance or lack of knowledge allows.
In other words, the more educated, civilized [Hellenic], inquisitive,and open-minded a person is, the better he can understand another’s perspective. There are things common to all people that are determined by empathy, but when it comes to belief systems, without any idea of the other person’s belief system, one is just an object of pareidolic bias, and that is directly interpreted and written into the way of seeing and perceiving.
On the other hand, if you do not know anything about the stasis, the subjects of the other, you can not make educated judgments, so you fall back on the universe of discourse you know and read everything into it as if you were looking through lenses that let through no light but only a tiny slice of the social, religious, historical, cognitive, political spectrum of the whole matter, while being blind to everything else.
The other interesting aspect is how these belief systems, perceptual lenses, pareidolic distortions enter the upper structures of the neurocognitive circuits that biopsychology deals with. How they are conditioned is what sociology deals with, then the upper level of cognition, which is often unconscious or remains in the realm of unactivated knowledge or ignorance of ignorance, namely the architecture of meanings and beliefs, which is composed of the history of ideas, their transmission, transmission capacity, memification, stratification, diffusion, distribution, mutations, adaptation, evolution, and so on. Intellect and reason are the self-conscious geniuses that shape and carve into these ideas to reconstitute, produce, rearrange, and compose new narratives and ideas. How they work in practice is the study of mass and individual behavior, for example complex adaptive systems in complexity theories applied to the social sciences to study them quantitatively.
Humans are not a ‘tabula rasa’ and do not function in a void on which everything can be written. We have our cognitive abilities, thinking styles, cognitive phenotypes, we are shaped by mentors, society, images, self-images, imago and logoi, etc. If we are lucky, we individuate according to the alchymic process and mature, if not, we live with acquired automatisms that preserve the illusion of free will. Therefore, every phenomenon mentioned in the first part is inseparable from the biopsychological, sociological, mythogenic part.
This process largely determines human behavior in the civilizational context. He who masters the context masters the meaning. It is both dangerous to the uneducated and a threat to the educated. Populism thrives on the domination of context; religious fundamentalism thrives on the domination of content and the faith through which it is seen; it appropriates context and content. Fortunately, the context itself is not homogeneous because of the diversity of content and meaning. Therefore, it is not susceptible to abuse by the reverse totalitarian regime or any form of populist fascist ideas - after a while, the whole construct and dynamic frees itself from the shackles, but each time at a high price of education, open-mindedness, human principles, virtues and values. Every war robs humanity of something, every rise of stupidity and human folly that is placed in a position of power damages the social fabric of minds and hearts.
It is not easy to overthrow a tyranny, but the reconstruction of a society of mature individuals is arduous after it has been ruined by stupidity and baseness of ignorance, whether by a war or a cold war between intellect and ignorance, reason and stupidity, virtue and vice, principles and spinelessness, the whole and egoism.
‘I see here only a tragedy’ - she continued - ‘not of evil, but of generation’.
-’That is, no one will protest against nature or life’ - she laughed - ‘Embrace it, but the degree of otherness between perfection and generation, perfection and growth, creation and reception, suffering and nirvana is an ever-increasing tragedy’ - ‘Those who see it are few, those who exercise it, fewer and fewer - she continued - ‘But is it not the case that every world has perished?’ - she asked in a gentle way. -the Socratic irony belongs to those who descend as prisoners in Plato’s cave, they act against generation and blindness, a heroic attitude, but soon they are strangled by this world. -’What about those who destroy them?’- ‘Madmen, they will not wipe out the universe or the solar system even if all the crowns and armies of Pluto were theirs’. -So what can you do in a world of failure?’ - ‘Do not add evil to evil, stay in growth despite the times ‘ -My Saturnian father interrupted me. - This is a very human reaction, but in the eyes of angels you see terror and awe, never a tear.
-’That’s a demiurgic view,’ I inquired curiously. ‘Forget the details, every perspective is born from your life, what kind of glasses do you wear, blind man?’ - ‘Ah, now I see I do not have any’ - ‘Not in this life’ - she winked at me. -’Then what’s the point of all this learning and practicing?’ - i asked. they know exactly what you must do, as your mind and destiny allow, wise choices for a young old man. Builder of the house, you shall build no more
- a Buddhist Lhag Thog (inner teachings) proverb. Pause for a while. Take a look at all the threads that animate your mind. What is the most static part of your mind? What is the densest part of your personality, your self? What makes you a real person, a qualia of an individual existence? Where does it all come from? According to the Samskarian view, in which senses and mind are only an aggregate of conditioned clusters that have crept into man over the ages as carriers of these energies. The only original reality that this ‘man’, this ‘woman’ can approach is the sheddingof all these conditionings from the perspective, from the attitude of these conditioned clusters, to reach the original light of consciousness, the purified lenses of pure mind.
But do we then cease to exist? Is everything just a concatenation of causes and effects, illusions in motion, which we abolish and thus abolish life in its generative aspect? This would be nihilism if a fatalist, a reductionist, a materialist took this stand. Embraced by the joy of life, the illusions play in favor of life, because empty and void we are the cup of the world, the cup.
But who embraces the demiurgic hand, who frees himself from the roots and floats in the stars and beyond? Uncounted threads of all the movements of Shakti, a hypothetical energy that flows through the universe like the sacred words and seals of the Chaldeans. When does Shakti become Samskara, or when does unconditioned energy become conditioned, when Nirvana is Samsara at its root, then Shakti is Samskara.
For a magician, this is of paramount importance, for by definition he attunes himself withthe creative force, he revels in his children - the movements of his will. Basically, a magician is a microcosmic demiurge, a mystic is the one who receives the demiurgic and transdemiurgic transcendent call.
How to understand the exclusion from the universe, the apparent search for a transcendent reality in which there is something like nothingness, because we erase our own existence to become free and one. How can the contradictory, immaculate will be reconciled with the act of ascending and burning, of fading away in great awe? This knowledge is given only to the exhausted man, for which he strives and desires dispassionately.
In the eye of the beholder, the world he sees is all that he is in the mirror of his dreams.
Homeless woman on bus
The homeless woman was traveling on the night bus to shelter from the rain of the previous storm. Some random passengers, hangovers of the day, gave her a brief ashamed look as she boarded and turned away from her disfigured face and the smell of old clothes, feces and piss. In the back of the bus sat a man wearing a silver mask and a black hood who was not noticed by anyone. He was the only one who looked at them with an incomparable gaze. He whispered in his mind, ‘Ishtar, Innana, Shamash, Belet-Ili’.
She woke up in the morning on the park bench, a little drunk and full of worry about the next day. And yet, something changed. She felt fresh, powerful and happier than usual. She touched her face and the blemishes were gone, she touched her hair and noticed strong, black, curly, long hair on her previously almost bald head. She also noticed that her old clothes were gone, and she smelled of an eerie nutmeg and sandalwood oil. -’That was the scent of her skin!’ - she was surprised and smiled proudly. She was wearing normal clothes, like everyone else. She stood up and looked at her face in a pond where water had accumulated due to yesterday’s rain. Her physiognomy was of outstanding, radiant beauty with golden, white and yet a little Moorish skin with Mediterranean undertones. ‘I do not believe my own eyes,’ she thought. Her character and nature also straightened, she felt noble and principled with a commanding attitude, similar to the old Semiramis. She heard a voice in the air: -’I am your guardian, beautiful one, there is a small piece of paper on the bench’. She asked ‘Who are you?’ but no answer came. Her eyes were drawn to a small paper on the wooden bench, she grabbed it and opened the red seal. -Marszałkowska 140, under the carpet there is a key’. She made her way there as if she knew this place from before, although shehad preserved her memories of being a homeless, destitute person only yesterday. When she got there shortly after, she remembered waking up in the Saxon Gardens. In fact, she found the key under the carpet and opened the door. It was a beautiful little apartment with high-end furnishings, a vase of tulips, On the wall hung a reproduction of William Blake’s painting, ‘The Great Red Dragon and the Beast from the Sea’. On a small wooden coffee table was a letter, also sealed. Pleased to see another clue, she opened it. ‘This world is already a whore, you are just another whore’. Startled by the message, she backed away a little. She heard a voice again, ‘Artemis, Artemis, you are long gone, go through the door’. She went back to the door through which she had entered and opened it. She saw red fire and in the center Jesus Christ crucified with the signature above his head ‘Traitor, King of the Jews, Lord of the Flies’.
He was surrounded by his followers kneeling around him with red glowing eyes while strange demonic beings repeated all the tortures that Christianity had invented for others over the centuries. Popes and inquisitors were burned at the stake, theologians and saints were quartered. Nuns and priests were tormented with sticks of fire in their throats. A dark, grim voice said, ‘Do not turn Gods into demons, Artemis, your art and temples are fallen, Hecate of Fate’. She could not believe her eyes and yet laughed at the whole spectacle. Her face turned black with many faces and lit the fires with golden lights, she roaredwith serpent’s tongue, roared like a dragon, while all these figures trembled in great fire. ‘You are cruel, I see, so was it with them, baptismal curse, who will undo it?’ - the dark voice asked. -’the messenger has already been killed, will you free them from the fires? What do you think?’ - the dark voice continued. -’When dawn comes, they will be freed after the sun spits lightning on the earth and douses the land with fire, is not that what the great Plato said? That the earth undergoes destructions, by water and floods, by air and great winds, by fire and burning and by earth and earthquakes and volcanic fury’. -’This is how Atlantis perished in the past’ - said the dark voice.
The homeless woman woke up in the park and looked around. A man was looking around, walking with his wife and a daughter. The homeless woman got up and shouted in a shrieking voice: ‘Where is the dragon, I am Artemis, you fools!’ The man laughed at her and walked by with his family. She heard only one voice, a last breath in the wind: ‘You will not see these worlds, death was a forewarning, your time is near, let them line up forthe hells, watch them still, the moderns, you will decide their fate, are you mistreated, burn them, scorch them all!’