Child of Sutekh II

March 3, 2013

I have wrestled with my relationship with Sutekh.

I have worried because many modern writers associate Set with Satan or the devil, even though in my heart I know that is foolish. I did not want to be deceived by a hungry spirit, but I have felt no hunger when I speak with this spirit. In the end all I have is what I see and what I have felt.

This article is quite accurate to my experiences with Sutekh: http://thetwistedrope.wordpress.com/2012/09/02/flirting-with-destruction/

I associate with Sutekh because our strengths are shared. He is strength through the process of dissolution. My strength is the strength of the truth that is revealed when all else has been worn away. I enfolding hold the light within the darkness.

Apep is the enemy of Ra (solar life giving order) and Ma’at (nurturing life sustaining order). Apep is terratogenic chaos beyond the cycle of spirit nurturing life. Apep is the representation of¬†annihilating¬†life. Sutekh is the chaos of wilderness, where laws of death and trial allow spirit nurturing life to continue. Sutekh is the slayer of Apep.

The Fallow Time

February 11, 2013

When I look into the eyes of man and woman I see many things. I see among all of those things the unending desire for their own suffering in this world and those that are to follow. I see the craving for suffering that lives within their soul. In the face of that my spirit weeps. When I look into my own eyes I see my own craving for suffering, abated by time and by pain and by truth that wracks the mind into fine silver, but I still see it within… and I weep.

When I see someone in distress it is all I can do but to help them. It’s been that way since I was a child. My beautiful Ina bought a little card to put up on the fridge which succinctly says “Too old to go on. Too young to stop.” Below is the picture of an exhausted parent rabbit surrounded by hopping, bouncing baby rabbits. It’s quite cute, and gives me actually a lot of joy to think of the future and children, laughter and seeing this world with new eyes, but it also brings me sadness. I don’t know how to help anymore.

We, all of us are here to yearn and crave and suffer in this world. Their are many other reasons to be here, but in this world we all need food, water, shelter, love, companionship, purpose and hope. Without these things we all suffer terrible. Beyond this we are afflicted with limitations of mind, body and spirit. We are poured full of our ancestors, their wrongs and their pains, faded by time and distance, but almost never defeated and always seeking to return to the next generation.

The human being is suffused with a perverse need to live out its inner darkness, its unspoken desires and the small thrill that follows the forbidden and the transgressive. I applaud the grand confrontation. The act of staring into every dark corner of your own being being that makes you want to look away and pretend that you never thought or felt those things. The pain is unspeakable. It feels like being rent in two. The compulsion to annihilate yourself with shame, and with it that part of god that speaks with your voice, is overwhelming. Sometimes it is all I can focus on to keep myself open, that no matter the darkness, there is love, and that every act of self destruction or denial of the truth is a selfish act. It saves no one. It protects no one. It balances no scales and frees no mind.

All I want to see when I look into the eyes of another is the capacity to change. A capacity that is not concerned with hoarding its self. All I want to see is the capacity to grant our lives and our suffering a meaning beyond the moments of beauty and joy that find us here. I value life itself above all other things. Not a single life, or a length of life, but life itself, the principle and the gift. It teaches us and helps souls to grow up. In the world of the mind and spirit there is no death, only cycles of self annihilation that last as long as the participants are willing. For true death their must be loss, and their must be separation. When someone dies here we will never live with them in that form again. Whatever they may have become is lost to this world forever. That knowledge and the pain the inevitably comes with this sinks into the soul.

The greatest crime committed against our souls by this world, and the greatest gift that it can give us, is time and distance. It is not enough to conceive and to know the work that must be done. We must plod. We must do each step in time and space and must truly know each step by experience. This leaves us prey to boredom, craving and self destruction by inches. It also leaves us open to healing. A healing that often we do not want. It leaves us open to experiences we never wanted or sought, because here there is no escape from time, or ourselves.

I feel too old to go on, but I know I am too young to stop, and too much left undone. I will walk with the broken. Those who are not afraid of losing themselves or of losing their pain when they come to me. I am a healer because it is my song. I sing it when I am sad and I sing it when I am happy.

Chorus

October 14, 2012

My Chorus is a sea of many guides that sing to me with one voice of many tones. They sing to me with voices woven into the Music from beyond the World.

They did not speak their name to me because in their place they have no such name. The name chorus came to me because it fits them. They sing to me about my life everyday and help to guide me through it. They help me most of all to remember myself and to allow what I feel to rise up through all layers of self-unknowing.

I needed to give my chorus a name because I used to say “the Music told me…” when I have become increasingly aware that there are many nuances to the Music and where it comes from. My Chorus are part of the Music that speaks to me with definite forms. The Music itself speaks in ways that move in so many directions at once that it seems formless to human beings. I perceive it as formless, but I am accustomed to formlessness, and it does not hide meaning from me.

Words of the Moment

October 11, 2012

Books that I am reading at the moment:

Lapham’s Quarterly: Magic Shows, Volume V, Number 3

Power Failure?, by Richard Starr (a history of failed energy policy and practice in Nova Scotia)

A Humument: A Treated Victorian Novel (Fifth Edition), by Tom Phillips

Books I wish to read:

The Hymns of Zoroaster: A New Translation of the Most Ancient Sacred Texts of Iran, by M. L. West

Cunning-Folk and Familiar Spirits: Shamanistic Visionary Traditions in Early Modern British Witchcraft and Magic, by Emma Wilby

Diary of a Professional Commodity Trader: Lessons from 21 Weeks of Real Trading, by Peter Brandt

Backgrounds of Early Christianity, third Edition, by Everett Ferguson

Simulations of God, By Dr. John C. Lilly

Love in an Alien Purgatory: The Life and Fantastic Art of David Huggins

Warnings in the Beautiful Night

September 26, 2012

The following is magical text. Reading it makes you part of it. Please do not read it if you do not wish to be part of it. Its character is transformation. If you don’t know how to work your own fate you should probably turn back, here.

I don’t like you very much. I feel that because you refuse to acknowledge your inner reality, and the pollution and detritus thereof. You will not see that what you feel and create within your self is a radiance that touches every other in your life. Your self denial is denial of every other being. Your self hatred is hatred of every other being. It touches us with a sick caress. It is unwelcome and unwanted. You have been given opportunities to be larger than you have been in the past. You passed them up. You have been pushed to open. You pushed back to close. Eventually it will no longer be your choice, because your choice stops with the conceit that you are a separate being that does not touch another.

I cry out “touch me with the eyes that see.” I cry out “touch me with the ears that hear.” Because the blind eye burns and the dead ear scolds with cold.

This is my poison. Help me. I give it up. Enough. I cry out.

You are sublime. You were made in the image of beauty and love. You hold the image of god in your heart. It is a flame and flower that does not die. You exist. You are present in place, time, substance and meaning. Please, there is a gift waiting for you. I know it will hurt. I am sorry. I am hurt to. I wish it upon no one, but if you do not take it, then you will take away a tiny part of god and everyone and everything will die by that.

A Box to Save Me II

August 21, 2012

I am feeling more well now. Sometimes I am in a great amount of pain.

I have worked for much of my life to reach the point where I could carry the current of knowing, unalloyed by artifice or externalization. In one form I have achieved that, but in doing so I have learned other lessons and wish to reach for other goals.

A limit on my development is that I am not a unified being. I contain elements that have been stitched or bound together against their natural inclinations. This truth exists in multiple levels and forms. I am a complex genetic hybrid whose life functions are a delicate balance between extremes. More importantly, I intentionally took on dark elements of family lineage and history within my present incarnation. The more I grow the more these elements are brought into direct conflict with my life force and the strong currents that I receive from the Music and the other forces and beings who guide my life in this physical reality. The results of this conflict are very painful. Wounded history, psychotic and abusive forces and emotional trauma become locked within physical parts of the body. This locking within physicality separates these forces from my psyche so that I do not need to experience them as if they were my own personal thoughts and feelings. This separation allows me to have a more functional human life, but one of the consequences is the physical pain and sense of separation located within the effected regions of the biological, emotional, and some levels of the energy body. The way that this has developed over the last six months is quite intense. A vertical section or slice on the outer edge of the right side of my body feels like it is part of another person’s body much of the time. This feeling encompasses my right arm, shoulder, the side of my neck, my inner ear, a strip of my face, a strip down my side, a small portion of my intestines in the ileocecal region, regions of my right thigh, leg and foot and a small extensions from my side to my second chakra / sacral region on the front of my body. The right arm has the most intense feelings of otherness associated with it, but the feelings are different day by day.

My past experiences indicate that it will take a period of time measured in months and years, and a large amount of directed life energy to traverse these feelings. When I first began writing on Wild Rote I had been experiencing what I called a window at the back of my head for several years. This window left me completely open and vulnerable during the part of my life where I began to achieve conscious awareness of the metaphysical reality that surrounds me. It was an extremely unpleasant process for me personally, but by this point it has left little trace, save for the fact that I have very sensitive and active “seat of consciousness” acupressure points in roughly the same area, what we called the “release points” when my mother and I were going to energy medicine sessions regularly.

I would still enjoy a practice that gave me separation from the unalloyed process. A gateway that I would have to choose to enter, instead of an unbidden power. I will let the guides sit with that.

A Box to Save Me

August 18, 2012

It’s so hilarious. I can’t believe I never saw it before.

One of my favorite quotes has always been this; that a church is a box that you put god inside of so that he can’t get at you when you are anywhere else.

I always put this quote to mean how silly it was to put god or the mystery away from your everyday life, but I realize now that I wish so much that I did have a box where I could put the spirit so that it couldn’t get to me and show me things that burn my eyes out from the inside. I wish I could put it inside a practice or a set of rituals that would save me from the burning pain. I would do those rituals everyday and they would be done, and my bones wouldn’t stretch and snap. My flesh would not move like the tide in a see of ghosts.

Two Images of the Soul

August 13, 2012

Threads of root light reaching down through the layers to find us in our hearts.

Surrounding, permeating, creating, womb like and embodied.

Both of these images I see. Neither of these images is the breath, animate, conscious, spiritual spark of life force that moves within us and between all things and belongs ultimately to know one. The soul is perpetual, written and writing by the scroll work of our lives, outside of time. Spirit moves, grows, changes. They are of a part, partaking in each other, but this is the limit of my sight. There is a mystery in their unity and separation that I have not penetrated in waking life.

Scenario Lesson: You don’t allow people you love to be hurt, even when they hurt you

August 11, 2012

I awoke from a dream just a little while ago and I want to record it.

My dreams have become more significant over the last couple of years. Only intermittently though. They are teaching dreams.

In this one I had been part of an unfolding dream logic narrative, the bulk of which I cannot hold onto. It culminated in my capture by a group of beings similar to myself who wished me harm. A woman I cared for deeply, but only know in the dream had betrayed me to them. I could tell that she had been hurt into doing this since long before I had ever known her and that this group of beings valued her even less than they valued each other.

The central figure of this group of beings began trying to convince me to me to let them torture her to death. He said that if I just said that they could kill her then things would be so much easier for me. Part of the scenario was that death was different in this reality. Not so much physical as experiential. she would experience being killed many times, but could always be brought back again.

In the dream she was a strong, tall woman, wearing light armor of some kind. She had Auburn hair cut even neck length around her head and arranged so it fell to the sides of her face like an arch. She had a milky, smooth stone over her sixth chakra, or third eye.

My captor looked like a wizened and older version of a character named Thanos from the marvel comic book universe. Looking closely he appeared to be made of thick gray strands. His image would shift back forth between being a humanoid figure and small tiki-like doll in my hand.

In this kind of teaching dream it is very difficult to think. If you could think normally you could fall back on your logical rigidity and morality of inertia. These two qualities are not what is being tested and developed. The words that come to mind from my guides are “we are interested in the mutability of the psychic greenwood.” the psychic greenwood, is the experience that you carry with you without, or beyond memory. It is the set of experiences that fundamentally change who you are as much as changing your genetic code would. This is how I have been given to understand that souls who travel between lives and worlds of lost memory still learn and grow. In the dream state you have to build up a level of pre-conscious understanding of the situations that you encounter to react to them with anything more than primal biological or psycho-social responses. In this case I know I have been run through this scenario many, many times. I remember looking at my captor and the one I loved who betrayed me. In looking closely and paying attention I could feel something through the haze of my thoughts. I could feel that there was a key, an answer to this situation that belied the choices that my captor had given me. This is another through line of my training, both waking an dreaming. There are keys to every scenario and you can find them by relaxing your grip on their presentation. If you hold onto how a scenario has been presented to you, instead of what you truly see and feel, then you are trapped by the limitations that have been placed on reality by the description and presentation. If you want to free yourself you must let go and make a trans-rational leap from reacting to the scenario as it seems, to finding, embellishing and projecting the reality of knowing that already exists within you.

I looked at my love who betrayed me, then at my captor. I felt the knowing in my chest. I felt that I had been here before and that, even though she had betrayed me, and I was made tired, wanting nothing more than to be left to sleep, not be tortured by these beings, I knew that would bring me nothing, an annihilation of self. I felt the path in my chest, I felt that I had been here before, I felt the way out and I reached for it. I looked into my captor’s face, wizened and gnarled, I let go and I saw. “You have never loved anyone.” I said. “You are incapable of love. Aren’t you?” The way that I seemed to say the words held within it the knowing that having seen and felt the truth within myself, which includes my love for the one who betrayed me, I, and no being that had ever felt what I felt, could let harm come to her in my place, no matter what she had been hurt into doing against me. My captors face began to unravel and twist and I could feel my bonds and the edges of the dream falling away. I shouted liked an excited child “I remembered the lesson. I remembered the lesson!” As if it had taken me ages to get this far. In waking reality I would have been quietly thankful that there would be death and pain for no one that day, but that is a choice that I make based on my capacity to make it, a capacity which is withdrawn or hobbled in the dream state. My soul truth was and is that I am so excited and proud to have completed that lesson and deep learned the key.

I have mixed feelings about that feeling of excitement. Stopping another from being tortured in your place isn’t a logical moral problem for me. It’s wrong to let other be hurt in your place, but my guides don’t care about what I know and can do when I have my mind and logic and faculties to help me hold my form. My guides care about the greenwood of the soul. They care about who I am in the living moment, beyond polemics of morality. If I am someone who wants in my heart to let others be hurt so I can rest, then I cannot be a healer. If I am someone who reaches beyond the presentations of evil and takes hold of life without thought, then I can be a healer. This isn’t a black and white distinction. Children often do terrible things because they have not grown enough to know what the results of their actions would be. We forgive children this because we know that they will grow and become something else. So will each of us, though we must be held to a higher standard.

This is one scenario among endless and limitless.

Our Civilization: The Usure

July 31, 2012

I’ve invested a great deal of thought into how to describe and talk about our civilization. One of the hardest aspects of that job is defining the limits of that civilization to my satisfaction. It’s easy enough to do if you accept the exoterric perspective, but for me the universe is a bit larger and more complicated.

Our civilization is not defined by humanity because there are humans that are not part of it, uncontacted amazonian tribes, or perhaps humans from other worlds or states of being.

Our civilization is not defined by nationality because that image has become an even more hollow tool of rhetoric than it was during the twentieth century. Americans and Chinese and Iranians and Brazilians all live by the same up and down turns of globalized world currency and commodity markets, operated and managed by different factions of the same class of persons with aligned interests.

Our civilization is not defined by religions or cultures because those terms have long since lost the power to define a way of life or subsistence, though it is the basis of more localized identity, prejudices and atrocities.

Our civilization is defined by two criteria, one minor and one major. The minor criteria is our technology and method of science which has provided us collective dominion over some grosser and simplistic aspects of physical reality. The major criteria is the system of banking and finance that has subtly enveloped, encysted and metastasized throughout our consciousnesses and our material sphere.

The terms by which a human life is now measured are the terms of a bank loan. Finance and banking are the systems of magical symbology by which order is maintained and right discerned from wrong.

I do not speak of greed, or acquisitiveness. Those qualities in one form or another have lived in every age. I am talking about he domination of the human consciousness by the unquestioned symbols of finance. I am talking about the debasement of quality, value and worth themselves. When all things are measured in terms of money then all things become equivalent, fungible, interchangeable and completely without unique qualities.

Money destroys everything because it renders everything equivalent.

We the people of this civilization are the Usure. Our lives are measured in terms of debt. We live by debt, we die by debt. Debt is our food and our shelter. Debt is our work and our lively hood. I say this because we have come to act, think and breath by usury. Usury of the Earth and usury of humanity. This is what has defined us. The system of monies that we have created and spread.

The Usure live in the Company Town. The Company Town is institutions and infrastructure, but it is also an idea. The Company Town is everywhere that we buy food and sell our lives for currencies that can be traded and exchanged in massive volumes on international, nearly invisible markets. Currencies that are given worth by our participation, our blood and our lifeforce, but that we cannot control. The Company Town is where everything you can do that the system recognizes as real feeds your life back into that system. It doesn’t matter if you are a doctor or an aid worker. What you do feeds back into the system that turns currencies into weapons.

These weapons are not swords or guns or bombs, though they are counted among the ranks. The weapons of which I speak are ubiquitous and pervasive. They invade every crevice, or space where they may live. They displace the spirit. They are mind weapons. They are weapons to attack the soul, to leave it injured and hidden. When a living being accepts that its self can be measured by quantity, by number and currency, then it has separated itself from the power of life. That being has accepted a little death into its heart and it will know death.