Thursday, December 29, 2011

Thank You!

Well, dear readers, the spiraling Year of the Rabbit, the Year of following the White Rabbit down the Rabbit Hole is closing soon, and the Gregorian year 2012 is about to dawn, the year of the Dragon. Thank you all for reading, commenting, and joining the blog.  See you in 2012!

Wishing you all a Happy New Year!     

Friday, December 23, 2011

Merry Yuletide

After the arrogance and hubris of scientism crept into human paradigms, ideas such as "demythologization" came into eventual vogue, and skeptics since have propounded their fundamentalism about things that exist and things that don't, as did religionists before their time.  Two extremes, scientism and religious absolutism.  

Santa Claus.  Does he exist, or not?  It's a childlike question, of course, but it's also a moot question, but most non-practitioners, religionists, scientism-ists, and other Muggles don't know why it's a moot question.  Santa Claus is astral, and manifests as multitudinous avatars; sometimes the manifestation is strictly iconic, sometimes in acts of human charitable, joyous kindness, sometimes as gift-givers and parents, and of course as all and some of the above.  And then some.  Astral, living fields are conscious intelligence, entities that aren't old rags n' bones but states of being, evolving archetype-symbols that hold the promise of happiness and well-being.  The ol' Saint Nick is a cozy Yuletide personification who is about happiness, joy, wonder, and love.

He has no axe to grind, and his bag is a bag of toys and merriment, not a bag of tricks to deceive into religion and other such baggage.  If you're naughty, you're on his shit-list and you'll get your karma. If you're nice, you'll get toys and cozy karma.  Plain and simple.  

Wishing you all a Joyous Yuletide Season!


Wednesday, December 7, 2011

The In-Between

Twilight-dusk, the duration preceding the break of dawn, the interzone, borderland, in-between Bardo time.  These are the real, bona fide, so-called "Witching Hour."  It's also the essence of Samhein, the thinning of the veils and walls between hyperdimensions, and all inner landscapes, and it happens twice, every 24 hours, twenty-four-seven.  Two spacetime modalities co-exist in perfect tension, a mini-solstice of sorts; it's the best time for scrying, divination.  This is also known in Segaki, the Hungry-Ghost feeding rite, viz., that the best time for the ritual is during the in-between borderland of twilight or the crack of dawn.  

Twilight and the crack of dawn; I take these two time-zones as hyper-time-zones, i.e., time out of time; they are like lunar and solar eclipses, they are durations of nonduality, superposition, and entanglement, of both-and and neither-nor. 


Thursday, December 1, 2011

Human History and Habit

Those who cannot learn from history are doomed to repeat it.  
(George Santayana)

We learn from history that we learn nothing from history.  
(George Bernard Shaw)

What experience and history teach is this — that people and governments never have learned anything from history, or acted on principles.  
(Georg Wilhelm Hegel)

Interesting that the three quotations above are by three Georg[e]s.  There must be something to that name.  But do these quotations convey the truth regarding history, and the human comportment to it? Perhaps they are correct, that humans do not learn, i.e., in general, overall, collectively as a herd, from history.  Some elite, elect people do, but perhaps not the masses, and it's the mass-dynamic to forget and repeat the same mistakes, perhaps on bigger and bigger scales.  But is this indeed the case, are the masses going on like a broken record, or is it only seemingly so?  

Consider Habit with respect to social morphic fields.  Evolution, perhaps we could be so bold as to say a teleological quantum-jump of negentropic Novelty, sometimes spontaneously arises in synergistic response to servo-feedback correlations among nested, entangled-hierarchic morphic fields.  Order suddenly bursts forth from Chaos; Apollo gets bootstrapped by Dionysus, not to emerge as the former self, but a hitherto unknown---and unforeseen---theophany.  A theophany (or theaphany, whichever) of renewed integration, sublimation, involution, and superposition.  

And when the new god is born, believers of the old order will castigate it, and make it their holy duty to crucify it.  But the one-step-forward one-step-back double-dialectic backlash is part of the evolutionary process, which affords collective, morphic-resonant, heuristic proactivity, a frame of covariant reference, a means of osmotic assimilation and inculcation of new information on a mass, historical scale.  The great kenosis of the death of the old god, the old order, must inevitably bring with it a great upheaval; an upheaval to those who still cling to it for dear life, as if their souls depended on it.  But history is just a peripheral byproduct of the universal teleology of consciousness, and nothing more; it's just flotsam and jetsam.  

To end it with a rather hackneyed but effective story: The only son of elderly Tibetan farmers broke his leg.  Their son tilled the field, sowed seeds, harvested, and did most of the physical labor for them, but now, even his older folks were more physically able than he.  His parents rued the day, and expressed their anger toward their guardian bodhisattvas, that the bodhisattvas broke their vows and betrayed them.  But soon thereafter, the Red Army trounces through the hills and fields in a drive to draft all young and able men in the province.  They come upon the lad and pass him over, as his leg is broken, and is useless to them.  The elderly farmers then understood the harsh, exigent expedience of the bodhisattva's work, and marveled.  For had their son gotten swept up by the Red Army, he would have never returned.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Toward Perfect Information

A few years ago I had a shamanic vision of "expression-competition." A group of guys stood around in an urban setting, and competed as to who could convey more meanings with, and compact more concepts into, a single sound. A big, rotund fellow wearing a cap stood up, took a very deep breath, and exhaled a single sound that expressed sentences-worth of meaning, and the participants cheered. A strange vision, but not that strange.

It's said the greatest sermon of Shakyamuni Buddha was when he had held a flower, smiled, and didn't say a word. That pretty much said it all. Mantras, incantations, sigils, symbols, spells, etc. are hyper-semantic, hyper-semiotic and yet they interweave with morphic fields.

I'm quite convinced that the proliferation of diagnoses of Attention Deficit Disorder the world over is an aspect of evolutionary, morphogenetic adaptation to increasing historical "velocity" with respect to information exchange. Truncated, abbreviated, encoded information is an essential ingredient of daily parlance. I don't have ADD but I've must admit I've caught myself skipping tweets that are "too long."

This kind of instantaneous processing of much compacted data into shorter and shorter segments of information-conveyance is exactly an aspect of M. Gladwell's idea of "blink," it's exercising a heretofore atrophied dimension of supra-sensory perception. Evolution is proceeding toward the condensation of data into discrete quantum "packets."

For an obvious textual example, ':)' appended to the end of an otherwise potentially misconstrue-able text-message can soften it to avoid misunderstanding. Contextually ':)' would be packed with information, and makes an instantaneous connection on emotional, psychological, and psychic levels with very little cranking of cognitive wheels involved, as a device of information-negentropy. Linguistic-info data-compression is both textual and verbal.

However, the question remains as to if an actual devolutionary dumbing-down is happening, and less information (and hence more noise) is being transmitted by way of compression. Perhaps 'dumbing-down' needs to be defined in context, because in terms of conventional standards hitherto, yes, languages are getting deconstructed. People don't know the difference between 'your' and 'you're' any more since they are now both derivatives of 'ur' (it's probably not putting the cart before the horse to say that texting, instant-messaging, and chatting are more fundamental to language skills today than, say, book- and classroom learning). If a whole new generation learns the written language by way of networking venues, then abbreviations, acronyms, and "special-character" cypher-concatenations will become normative.

In that case, dumbing-down (by current standards, which already are very low, at least in the U.S.), information-transmission efficiency, and telepathic tapping-into sociolinguistic morphic fields will happen all at the same time. Honing the ability, even if unconsciously, of accessing collective repositories of morphic fields is far superior to being dependent on the bulwarks of cumbersome grammar, which can effectively thwart referential opacity.  

It seems that logico-grammatical entrenchment of social morphic fields was a provisional Habit to teleologically prepare human beings for a morphic-quantum, evolutionary jump to telepathic, nonlocal communication. It's a move away from Logos to Eros, toward a more inclusive mode of being.    

Saturday, November 19, 2011

Masters of Spirit

In late 1996 I was a middle-school math-sub at a local middle school, which was mostly for Native American children.  We had just moved to the area.  I saw the job opening and applied; I had to take a 7th-grade level math test, which I passed, and they were happy to have me.  I was told that the position had been open for three months, and no one could fill it because the applicants couldn't pass the test.  I was quite appalled, because the test wasn't difficult at all (I think it was lower than 7th-grade level).

The principal was a wonderful, regal man, and I built good rapport with the homeroom teacher of the sixth grade, call him Mr. B, who was so glad to finally have an assistant for his math class.  He was a spiritual man, a mystical Quaker.  He somehow knew that I wasn't just a mundane math-geek, and though I never mentioned it (and I never do), he extrapolated that I had a Buddha-bent about me; how he did it, I don't know, but he connected with me on a supernal plane.  

I'm a terrible disciplinarian, and if Mr. B wasn't in the room, the room would turn into a free-for-all romp for the happy children, even while I droned on about FOIL and finding solutions for polynomials.  But Mr. B didn't care, he was just happy to have me there, and I was grateful that he didn't expect me to do the teacher-thing that he did so well, so naturally, so strongly and yet kindly, like a father to those kids.  

When the time came for me to move on to another job, I commuted to the school in my usual way, went to class, and waited for my turn to tell Mr. B that that day was going to be my last.  He walked into the room, and I nodded to him.  I didn't say a word.  He looked up, and made a disappointed look.  "Yes," I said, and nothing more.  "Oh no," he said.  So I used words this time, and told him that it was going to be my last day.  And he exclaimed sadly, "I knew it!"      

We had had a non-verbal, telepathic moment, and I never forgot that "conversation."  I was invited to a Pow Wow of the school kids, thereafter.  They danced in a circle in traditional garbs, to beautiful chanting and drumming.  I noticed one of them, who was a very morose, melancholy girl during math class, who was flunking it big time.  She hated it, and was utterly despondent.  Mr. B had me counsel her, and I told her to not worry, that it wasn't important, and that it really didn't matter if she didn't know all that stuff.    

And I was glad that my counseling was correct; when she was in her element, she became free as bird, and danced ecstatically.  I couldn't believe that this was the same sad-sack math-flunker.  Watching her dance was incredibly beautiful; she wanted nothing of the thought-shackles of the conventional world. It was a symbolic moment for me, which had said more than words could ever say about the soaring Native Spirit.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

On Time Travel

Had a dream a couple days ago of trying to take the DeLorean that was the time-machine in the movie from the past, Back to the Future (1985).  A guy who owned the vehicle came around while I was pushing it out of the driveway in neutral, and said, "I know what you guys are up to.  Bring the car back after you're done with the joyride."  And that was the end of it.

Much later in my waking state I contemplated about how the movie's contemporaneous Marty McFly bedazzled the 1950's kids by just being himself, and the story had that part very correct; people do evolve because all morphic fields evolve, and that evolution is getting exponentially faster.  If say, a regular teenage Marty McFly of the 2010 decade were to travel back to 1985 (let alone 1955), he would blow their minds.  Even a NeoNeanderthal teen of the 2010 decade would be morphogenetically more evolved than a "maximally evolved" teen of 1985.    

I've had experiences of time loops and of time traveling; in one experience I traveled to a place and time approximately 1,200 years ago, in shamanic space, where my consciousness watched an entourage of travelers walking a path toward Ch'ang-an in T'ang era China, in the late 700's c.e. Gregorian.  My mind was completely still, watching, observing; they were off in the distance, people were moving, the sky was blue, but I was unable to affect anything.  I simply observed.  I was a passerby (as an aside, c.f. Gospel of Thomas, logion 42).

I thought of mind travel and physical time travel, there is a superficial difference, in that physical time has the law of Entropy at work, in which case that which is of the past has dissipated, become used up, exhausted; the material cannot be revisited physically, because the physical past, due to the second law of thermodynamics, goes into inertia.    

It is rather ironic that the premise of the Twin Paradox has to assume, to be a "sound" reductio ad absurdum, that space and time are Newtonian, and entropy-free.  By way of Entropy, which is like the critters in Stephen King's Langoliers, the past itself becomes inert, it becomes played out, used up; Entropy is a function of time, it could be said that time is Entropy.  Fields can be influenced, however, and the physical present as such in which one would astrally time-travel to the past has already been deterministically affected by the timeline-spiral that has been created by the visit to the Mind-space of the past; the traveler would have changed the present, hopefully for the better (the meaning of 'better' would be a whole topic in itself).  The material-physical is subject to Entropy, but Mind-as-such is not subject to Entropy.  

There is too much historical Noise to travel too far into the Future, at least for now, and there is an event horizon.  To observe the Future is one thing, trying to affect it is another.  What would be the basis of such karmic jostling of Butterfly Effects?  Either way, whether traveling to the past or into the Future, beware; observe and resonate well, and if you don't know how to do either, refrain from such activities, and become mindful in the present.  Mind is both Time and Timeless.


Monday, October 31, 2011

Marici Invisibility Spell

For about a dozen years now, every Samhein I do a Hungry-Ghost feeding rite (there were a couple years that I missed, I think), and at the beginning of the rite, after the self-protection procedure, there is another self-protective layer called the Marici invisibility spell.  Now I'm not going to divulge the rite, but suffice it to say that it entails the consonance of three aspects, viz., of incantation, visualization, and gestures.  

Marici is a Solar divinity who is also called 'Marishi-ten' (摩利支天) in Sinojapanese, who has two special characteristics, viz., that of moving with incredible speed, and brilliance so bright that it blinds, thereby rendering one invisible.  The rite of the deity has been implemented of old by Ninja, shamans, and mountain-ascetics.  Concerning the deity's speed, inasmuch as the divinity is luminal and solar, we could interpret the aspect of velocity in terms of photonic speed, in which case, by empowering with this kind of resonance, synchronistic paradoxes (e.g., the "twin paradox" of Special Relativity, and so on) of time-travel can occur as one's frame of reference becomes consonant with covariant c, the speed-limit of the visual field.  

I've discussed the aspect of the Noise of solar flares as dampening remote-viewing, and this is another aspect of the spell; it is a resonant, ritual solar-flare that "snows out" the possibility of being seen, astrally, and going unnoticed physically.  It shuts out one's existence-signatures for a duration.  When the Sun is in the sky, everything behind it is blotted out from view; such is the nature of effulgence, physically and astrally, which is implemented in the rite.  Magickal traditions have invisibility spells of sorts; if you're an adept who uses or has used such spells, you will know that this is about "hiding in the light."  

"Hiding in the light" has another negative connotation, that of people who cloak themselves in the guise of righteousness, while they are wolves in sheep's clothing.  This is not what is meant here; the spell is about finding protection in light.  Happy Samhein!  


Sunday, October 30, 2011

The Devil Field

He's been with the world
And I'm tired of the soup du jour
He's been with the world
I wanna end this prophylactic tour
Afraid nobody around here
Understands my potato
Guess I'm only a spud-boy
Looking for a real tomato
We're the Smart Patrol
Nowhere to go
Suburban robots that monitor reality
Common stock
We work around the clock
We shove the poles in the holes
(Devo: Smart Patrol / Mr. DNA)

While driving in downtown the other day I saw an elderly couple, maybe in their seventies, greying hair, rickety, hobbling and waddling about with grins on their faces; they were caucasian, which seems irrelevant, but they were carrying a large, visible sign on a stick, and the first thing I saw was that the sign had a large photo of an obviously Latino/Hispanic man holding a crying baby in his arms.  I thought nothing of it until I saw the caption written in large letters beneath the photo: "No more $ taxes for this."

I was saddened and quite aghast.  They were Tea Party folk on their way to their designated downtown protest-spot.  Being an empath and a "sensitive," I felt more from these people than could meet the eye. I experienced, instantaneously, a miasma-field about them like Pig Pen's dirt-cloud, energetic tendrils reaching here and there; I could feel their hatred palpably, their torpor, their entrenchment in the world, their dense belief in it, their own sense of righteousness.  They were no different from any ideology-based group on a witch-hunt bandwagon against scapegoats that are nothing but red herrings and "strawmen."  Not only are they barking up the wrong tree, there's no tree to bark up ... that is, "out there" in the first place.

It's all an aspect of Entrenchment, and it's what you see in the Tarot Devil Card.  When there is entrenchment, one is in the clutches of the Devil, which symbolizes sheer mundanity, in all forms of divination.  Everything is Nondual so it's all good, but only good for you if you know the fucking difference in the first place. Entrenchment happens to anyone, to those who are right and those who are wrong, and everyone in between; knowing that one is entrenched is the first step toward liberation; there is no Enemy "out there" but one's very own righteous ego, with all its wiles and poisons.  


Saturday, October 29, 2011

Avatars of Pan

“It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.” - - Krishnamurti

A 'profoundly sick society' is a dystopia. If being well adjusted to dystopia is not a measure of health, then it could be said that being maladjusted to dystopia might be a measure of health. 

There's a literary figure called Oskar Matzerath in Günter Grass's The Tin Drum (German: Die Blechtrommel, Ralph Manheim trans. (1959)), who stops growing by his own will during WWII in Poland, because his ""spiritual development is complete at birth and only needs to affirm itself"; the book is in Oskar's first-person narrative, which begins with his being in a mental hospital.

Not-growing-old is seen in such cases to be a defiance against normative expectations of society, i.e., society and a world that kept getting "profoundly sicker" by the day.  This character Oskar seems to have emerged from Pan's labyrinth of the author's unconscious, as a supernatural trickster.  Not only does he have power over his own physiological development, he has the power of resonance; he can make a shriek (reminiscent of E. Munch's "The Scream") strong enough to shatter glass.  And he plays the drum, another aspect of his resonance, which is rife with symbolism.       
There's another noteworthy, literary social-morphic-field examples of Krishnamurti's idea. J.M. Barrie's Peter Pan is trickster Pan who is the boy who "never grows old," who perpetually remains the boy who adventures in Neverland, which is a Lord-of-the-Flies-like dystopia of ruffians, brigands, and danger. He is perpetually in the dream-world interzone, adapting to neither "society."  

Pan leads with resonance of music, shocks-awake with screams of wrath; this particular trickster, the perpetual youth, will always be encountered in the journey of involution-evolution; it is an aspect, ironically, of inner development that departs from the demands and constraints  of collective chreodes and Habits.  It's the artful, teleological preservation of imagination full of potential and possibility. 

Friday, October 28, 2011

Noise and Nonlocal Remote-Viewing

One interpretation (a la R. Targ) of remote viewing is with respect to the paradigm of nonlocality, i.e., a nonlocal universe.  Epistemological considerations aside, according to this point of view (so to speak), remote viewing is made possible not because of signals that travel in time (photonic or otherwise), but because of the nonlocal interwoven-ness of everything, in which case signal-transmission and signal-reception are not factors inasmuch as everything inherently contains information of everything else, as in a hologram.  In this context, remote viewing is an exercise in “nonlocal awareness,” viz., the essential interpenetration of everything, which is the reason why remote viewing is possible. 

But a rather significant statement, I found, is made by Targ in his book Limitless Mind, citing James Spottiswoode’s findings (“Geomagnetic Fluctuations and Free Response Anomalous Cognition: A New Understanding,” Journal of Parapsychology 61, March (1997)) that “. . . recent findings by physicist James Spottiswoode show that electromagnetic radiation from our Milky Way galaxy and the electromagnetic effects of solar flares both degrade psychic functioning. Electrical shielding seems to help performance, and so does carrying out experiments when the galactic radiation is at a minimum at one’s location.” 

So if a geomagnetic storm, say, dampens remote viewing and yet it’s said that remote viewing is non-energetic but an aspect of nonlocality (nonlocal hologramic consciousness), how could physical Noise be a dampener? Physical Noise (not psychic Noise) should not be a factor at all, according to the nonlocal paradigm. So there is a conflict. 

There are many kinds of classifiable  Noise:   

Personal psychic Noise (thoughts, preconceptions, judgments, etc.) 

Collective psychic Noise (collective unrest, eschatological Zeitgeist, wars, famines, fear, the “whorl of history,” etc.) 

Physical Noise (atmospheric Noise, solar activity, electromagnetic fields (appliances, computers, cell phone towers, etc.), perturbations of Schumann resonance, etc,) 

It’s safe to say that we are surrounded by Noise, that we live in Noise. There’s Noise within and without, psychically and physically. How is it then that some physical Noises dampen psychic functioning, while others do not seem to matter?  According to the Nonlocal paradigm of remote viewing, the only hindrance should be psychic Noise, and no other. But such, according to Targ and Spottiswoode, is not the case.  Does this imply, then, that signal transmission-reception actually occurs?  If that were the case, remote viewing would be local, not nonlocal.  So we cannot have a nonlocal paradigm and speak of physical Noise as a dampener at the same time. 

My solution to this problem is the following. The so-called Nonlocal school of remote viewing might have a(n unconscious) hidden dualism.  The hidden dualism is that of consciousness (mind, awareness) and phenomena.  But if we are to apply the nondual approach, viz., that mind is matter and matter is mind, or that mind is neither matter nor not-matter, then psychic Noise and physical Noise are equal, they are ontologically equivalent.  This is why thought-spam, for example, hinders psychic functioning just as much as a geomagnetic storm would, and yet, there is no (local) signal-exchange involved. Noise is noise, and it hinders remote and immediate observations, and everything between.

Monday, October 17, 2011

Debunking Debunking

There's the old joke about the guy stuck on a roof of a building during a flood.  He's a man of "faith" who prays to his deity for help.  A rescue helicopter shows up and he refuses to go up the rope-ladder because he says his deity will save him.  The process repeats a few times and he finally winds up at the pearly gates.  He sees St. Peter and asks him why the deity didn't come to his rescue.  "We sent you three rescue helicopters, you turned them all down" is the punchline, or thereabouts.  There's another joke about a guy who prays to win the lottery.  He prays for years and never wins.  He finally talks to his deity and asks why he hasn't won, and the answer comes from above: "For cryin' out loud, buy a ticket."  Or thereabouts.  

The point I'm trying to make is this, that so-called "debunking" we see in so-called "paranormal" investigations could very well be something that misses the whole point. Empirical phenomena are what beings use as media of communication, or they are the means by which they can be detected, i.e., without a "spiritualist," psychic or medium.  So often you see "debunking" by attributing to some kind of "natural cause," but they don't think further. They have no understanding of how interwoven all worlds are, on all levels, from quantum-chaotic to classical-linear, they don't understand that it's all "natural," that just as neutrinos are coursing through our bodies and environment at all times, the undetected, invisible world is in constant interaction with the world of the senses.  

Sunday, October 9, 2011

Figura Magica Talismano

I lived in an apartment complex in 1994.  When I first moved in, I noticed the next-door neighbor’s vehicle; it was a monster-truck of sorts, jacked up with huge wheels, with a motorboat in tow.  I then saw him, and he looked like the kind of guy I didn’t want to live next to.  So I decided to hex his apartment, and did a spell for him to leave.  It was less than a week later, there was a note of eviction on his door.  I never saw the guy after that.

However, this kind of thoughtless behavior and black magick have a price to be paid.  Not much longer after he had moved, and I was feeling relieved, my walls started shaking with booming sounds of rap.  It was LOUD, so fucking loud.  The cacophonous sounds and rage-filled lyrics were full of bile and violence.  A gangsta had moved in. 

He would leave his apartment with the “music” on, for hours at a time, blasting loud enough for the entire complex to hear.  My walls would shake.  And this went on, day after day, for a few months.  I eventually met him, talked with him, played the friendly-politics game with him.  He was not a bad guy, I could empathically tell that he had a heart, but he was obviously riddled with severe issues.  I would often hear him screaming and yelling at his girlfriend.  His girlfriend, who lived with him, was a very strong girl and didn’t put up with his shit.  His gangsta cronies would hang at the steps to the apartment, they’d be milling about right outside my door, quite often. 

Of course I knew that I had reaped the bitter fruit of having hexed someone that I didn’t even know, of having judged him by his appearance.  He might have been a very nice neighbor to have.  So I chalked it up to experience, and endured my karma; I didn’t try and change it.  I knew that in due time, that karma would work itself out. 

I just had a show of my art in Seattle, WA, which was at an adult venue called the Lusty Lady Revue.  The artwork they displayed for about a month was very provocative, to say the least; they were large pieces that were all 40x60 (inches) in size, quite large.  They packed quite a punch. When I was making my sampler of the works, there was a guy working at Kinko’s, graveyard shift (I didn’t dare take the works in during daytime hours), who went into an ecstatic state upon seeing the photos of the pieces; he said he wanted to come to my house, and that he was going to go “jerk off in the bathroom” after I left the store.  His eyes rolled up into his head as I was leaving the store, showing mostly the whites of his eyes.   

The works were displayed at a Pagan gallery in a very hip part of the city, and they were displayed eventually for months at an OTO-run store, whose basement was their temple.  I even got a call from the head of the Church of Satan, who wanted to display my works at his gallery that he was working on at the time (it never panned out). Needless to say, these works were very powerful.  I even donated one of the pieces to the local OTO, and they displayed it by the door of their inner temple.  Suffice it to say that these pieces were uncompromising. 

Little did I know that one of these sacred pieces would come to my rescue.  I had a large (40x60) painting called “Dionysian Priest” displayed in my living room of the apartment, in a glossy black frame, behind plexi-glass.  It was a strong, dark icon (see photo; it is an edited version, as this is a G-rated blog).  One day, for whatever reason, the neighbor gangsta invited me to his apartment, and we talked and drank some whiskey.  He had a expressed interest in art, so I told him to come and see what I’ve got on my wall. 

When he saw it, he was stunned.  He was at a loss for words, he was saying this and that, about how amazing it was, and jabbered on in that manner.  He stared and stared at it.  He then asked me to do a piece for him, and gave me a large canvas that he had started to work on himself.  He was nicer to me than ever, I would say he was warmly cordial, instead of being his usual attitude-ridden gangsta self. I took the canvas from him, and that was my last encounter with him.

And again, it was less than about a week later, that I saw his girlfriend, who told me that he had left for Alaska to go work in a fishing boat. He never came back. Soon thereafter his girlfriend moved out, the apartment was vacant for a few days, and a nice lady, who was a veterinarian, moved in with her large (but quiet) dogs.  It had been a sign that the karma for the hex had worked itself out.  And in the end, the process had been expedited by the mysterious talisman.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Paradigm of Babel

As Nietzsche's prophet said, to paraphrase, human history has been unhinged from its orbit, and to wit, voila, the rise of the Axiom of Choice, Zermelo-style, from the pit of the nightmare of scientific reason. Sounds innocuous, sounds like nothing, but there was enough of that stuff going around for D. Hilbert to map out a programme for mathematicians, to find the "foundations" of just what it was that they were so enamored with. It was a singular paradigm at that time, after all; there were diverse areas of mathematics, but they were all building with the same blocks of absolute reality. 

Or so they thought. This set-theoretic stuff was "non-constructive" and somewhat arbitrary, it was a great obstacle-maker that broached its way into pristine Elysium, the pythagorean-platonic summum omnia of effulgent perfection, and stirred shit up. And G. Cantor himself, that original culprit, checked his ass into a mental ward and converted to Catholicism.

Imagine such a world that it was. If those folks were transplanted to the here and now, they'd all freak the freakout of hitherto unforeseen freakage. But c'est la vie, the unhinging has happened. There were non-Euclidean geometries, non-constructive axiomatic systems, the special and general theories of relativity, Gödel's Incompleteness Theorem, quantum theories, fractals, nonlinear Chaos ... and so on. And that's just a corner of the scientific-paradigmatic arena, all of the above splintered and shattered into a mosaic of isolated specializations. The Tower of Babel it is, where one specialist of one field can't understand doodly-squat of what the other specialist in the same field is saying or doing. 

But back to the non-constructive Axiom of Choice. It is the foundation of the in-validation of all paradigms hitherto. There is no objective rhyme or reason why any one paradigm holds water and another doesn't. There is no absolute authority, no absolute frame of reference. Or is there? There is, but paradigms, most of the ones that hold sway, have gone apocalyptically Steampunk, and have barred the way. "None shall pass" the confines, box, and procrustean zones; not without paying the high price of getting labeled a kook, a crackpot, a fraud, a pseudo-this-and-that, a heretic, and so on. And sometimes they get blackballed from the hall of ivory-tower egomaniacs scrambling in their hamster-cages.  They only burn 'em on a virtual stake, nowadays. 

There can be no theory of everything, because that theory will ultimately have to account for itself, and nothing can bootstrap itself into horn-tootin' self-legitimacy.  Would't a theory per se of everything have to include itself in its universe of discourse, or will it have some built-in paradox-busting failsafe that passes the buck from one metalanguage to the next, and so on till the cows come home?  There will always be a hole, and the hole is itself, i.e., if and only if it does not take Mind into account, the living being, the conscious entity, who is doing the thinking, tinkering, piddling, measuring, and observing. That's been the story hitherto. Hugh Everett tried quantum-theorizing sans observer, and universes inflated ad infinitum, into uncountably power-set of the cardinality-of-real-numbers transfinitely many universes. And counting, even as that never-collapsing probability wave has no choice (so to speak) but to keep hopping from one universe to another. 

Unhinged. But Mind does the choosing, not an external authority. The choices get made by epistemological filters, and those filters are chosen for personal reasons. That's the bottom line. When we can appreciate the shambles that paradigms (scientific, religious, and ideological) are, we come to understand that it's all a matter of choices. Choices that cannot be accounted for in terms of the choices that have been made.

Friday, September 30, 2011

Scopes of the Monkey Trial

I mentioned 'metalinguistic space' in the article about existence-assertions, so I want to apply the concept concretely to the pathetic Creationism "debate" that's sweeping the religiopolitical arena, as it makes its way into school programs.  Of course this analysis in metalanguage is applicable to all areas of so-called debate. The analysis shows that there really is no debate, because there is nothing that can be debated; both parties are talking past each other, simply because the intersection of both lambdas yield the null set. This is tantamount to saying that there is no basis for argument.

To reiterate, the universes of discourse are the ontologies of paradigms, i.e., the set of admissible objects in paradigms and theories within paradigms.  For example, a paradigm whose universe of discourse is based on the epistemological delimitation of its objects to empirical phenomena might “softly” consign non-empirical phenomena to the domain of conjectural, hypothetical, or inference-based objects, or with respect to a “hard” approach, it might consign such objects to the empty set .  As another example, if the paradigm were to be based on religious authority (or authorities), then its universe of discourse would likewise be delimited, demarcated with respect to the same, and all other objects that do not fall within the scope of its ontology would be equal to .

Hence, if a paradigm θ1’s universe of discourse were Λ1 , then in the case in which a nonempty Λ2 were to intersect with Λ1 and the result is null, then Λ1  - Λ2 = Λ1 inasmuch as relative to Λ1, the nonempty universe of discourse Λ2 has no object(s) in common with Λ1.  Logically speaking, relative to paradigm θ1, the universe of discourse Λ2 is equivalent to the null set, nonempty though it might be.  It is simply “discarded” by θ1, and is outside the scope of its set of admissible objects, in which case the truth-functional valuation of the statement

x [x Λ1..x Λ2]

would always be true in paradigm θ1.  Note that Λ2 will always “tag along” θ1 because the null set is a subset of every set, but it only tags along as that which simply “does not exist” with respect to paradigm θ1, because it has set its parameters to exclude Λ2, and the inflated union Λ1 Λ2 would no longer = Λ1, in which case it would be rejected by paradigm θ1, based on its epistemological selection-process.  (Which, I suppose, could be (in)formally understood in terms of a specific operator ε1 over the set of all possible universes  Λi so that ε1(Λi) = Λ1)

Granted, in most cases there are overlaps of some kind, but the question is to what degree those overlaps are paradigmatically significant.

Which brings us to the metalinguistic analysis.  To define: Let θs be a “soft” empirical paradigm of scientific method.  Let θd be a religious-dogma-based paradigm, and let Λs and Λd be their respective universes of discourse.    

θs consigns elements of Λd to the set of objects belonging in the category of conjectures, hypotheses, and (hitherto) unobservables.  Though θs does not consider the set Λd to be null, the fact remains that Λd Λs is, if not equal to , a set of elements that “sit on the fence,” as it were, and would for the most part be non-definitive with regard to the paradigm in question; i.e., the set ∂(Λd s) would be paradigmatically insignificant. This result, logically, would be the same in the case of a “hard” empirical paradigm with respect to the ontology of Λd.  The same principle holds for θd with respect to Λs .    

If both paradigms were “hardline,” then both would reject the “borderline” set ∂(Λd s) as spurious, as = .  We now apply the analysis concretely to the Evolution - Creationism debate.  A "hard" paradigm which supports the universe of discourse of evolution theory excludes the universe of discourse supported by the hardline paradigm of creationism, and vice versa.  It is only in this metalinguistic space in which it becomes evident that the two paradigms have nothing of ontological value in common (and whatever they do have in common is paradigmatically insignificant).  If there is nothing of significance in common, then there is no ground, there is no basis for debate.  I am not speaking of the tenacity of one’s faith in science or dogma.  I am speaking strictly of the elements of the universes of discourse. 

So, dropping a dimension and getting back to the world of language, the debate of Evolution - Creationism is actually a non-debate.  It’s simply shadow-boxing, talking past each other; there will never be an agreement.  There has been compromise for sure with “softer” θd, which I believe is sensible, because they have made the boundaries of Λd “fuzzy” enough to accommodate a universe of discourse Λs’ > ∂(Λd s) (though Λs’  < Λs) in their paradigm.  But with regard to the allowance of more objects into their universe of discourse, that is where the matter ends; the paradigm gets enriched with a larger, more flexible ontology, and there is nothing more to debate.  In fact, that is when the so-called debate has ended. 

As long as paradigms θs and θd are such that their respective Λs and Λd yield ∂(Λd s) ≈ , there is no logical basis for debate.  Unless, of course, one can logically prove that oranges are better than apples.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011


Forces unpredictable, hitherto unknown, rend the sky, 
Revealing behind the blackness, veins of thunder in a body of nothingness.  
I am the keeper of the vortex, the nexus, the center.  
I have become all the worlds, in great conquest.  

Worlds shatter by the power of my incantation. 
Tapestries unweave because of my spell, beings retch from a vertigo of fear. 
Finally, in space, behold: the silver triangle of Omniscience.  

June 10, 2002

Elenin, the supposedly tetrahedral comet, is Ketu.  Ketu portends.  Hoax, sensationalism, hysteria, flim-flam fly-by-night snake-oil salesmanship, debunkable bunk, mendaciousness, and outright lies: none of those things matter in the field of a collective message, only those who observe the resonances of the world, the Avalokitesvaras, can know what that message is. For truth to be cloaked in shit, nothing can be a more effective shield.  I write this for those who are the El-ite, the El's of the world.  Elohim Essaim, Elohim 一切無 (無=穆 (liberation)).       

From a blog article: Mind Space of Tahquitz Canyon (April 22, 2011):
There is a canyon in the southern California desert named after a dark shaman-wizard, Tahquitz, of the Cahuilla tribe.  Over the course of years, throughout my mid-teens to twenty years of age, I came into occasional contact with the shaman's morphic resonance.  

After a night of partying (I think we were just doing bong hits that night), my friend George and I were walking on Grapevine Street in Palm Desert, around 3:00 in the morning.  We were fifteen years old, so that was in 1976.  As we were walking the dark street (and town, for that matter), it suddenly became as bright as day, for about a second.  It quickly got dark again, and there was another momentary flash of daylight brilliance that illuminated everything.  George turned around and yelled, "Whoah!"  I turned around and saw a streak of fire in the sky, a colossal blaze of fire as the meteor burned up in the atmosphere.  It literally looked as if a part of the sky had caught on fire.  We were both astounded.  From where we were standing, the streak of fire was directly above the San Jacinto Mountains, above the location of Tahquitz Canyon. 

According to ancient Vedic Astrology, the Comet is called Ketu, and its iconography in the esoteric Mandala is that of a screaming, decapitated head.  Like the Tower Card in Tarot, it portends great change.   In the Cahuilla native mythology,  Tahquitz personifies the meteor, or comet, and they say that his rumblings can still be heard today in the Canyon named after him: 

"Even today strange rumblings can be heard in the rocky depths of the San Jacintos, and earthquakes are common there.  Without doubt these are caused by Tahquitz as he stamps about ... Tahquitz sometimes still appears to Cahuilla people as a huge ugly creature with an arrow stuck right though his massive head ... Almost nightly in the midnight sky one can see a flaming meteor - - -old Tahquitz in search of the souls of men and women to sate his horrible appetite" (Harry C. James, The Cahuilla Indians, p.84 (1985 reprint, Malki Museum Press)).

An old friend from Japan, whose whereabouts today I don't know, visited me with his brother and friend in '77, and I took them together with some of my local friends up Tahquitz Canyon in the middle of the night, and we walked all the way up to "First Falls," a rather long trek, especially in the dark of night.  It was a strange chthonic journey that I led.  We were all wasted.  My friend said to me, Are you a demon or something?  He was kidding but not kidding.  He was freaked out.  He made me aware of my behavior.  I was leading all these kids into a treacherous place, only out of my own sense of mystical quest.

In retrospect, we were off to see the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz.  The big Head, and the Head alone: The Ketu-Comet icon, the harbinger of great Change, the symbol of Tahquitz.  Even in the tantric interweaving with the dark resonance of Tahquitz, I had come to realize that this harbinger is an aspect, a Mandalic, fractal aspect that has been a helper, a signpost, an inner guide.

From a blog entry: Lost Horizon (May 30, 2011): 
We recently watched the DVD of the old Frank Capra movie, “The Lost Horizon” (1937).  As we watched, a scene jumped out at me, it was as if I was in a dream, a very familiar anamnesis, a near-déjà vu remembrance.  A sequence was filmed on location at Tahquitz Canyon, at the First Falls.  There it was, the foundational landscape of one of my Mindspaces, right there on the screen, from a black & white movie that’s almost ¾ century old.  I was quite amazed; I Googled the key words after the movie, and sure enough, the scenes were filmed at Tahquitz Canyon’s First Falls.     

It was synchronistic.  When the horizon---the event horizon---is lost, the Singularity is seen, broached, revealed, experienced … and so on.  It is Utopia; according to the host Chang in the story, Shangri la is the place without excesses, it is the place where all calamities are mitigated and averted. 

In this sense of Utopia, there is a parallel to that anomalous, unaccountable non-event in the ontology or domain of discourse of statistical-probabilistic spaces, viz., the object(s) or event(s) that never happened, that got mitigated, averted, thwarted, annulled; empirically speaking, such objects would belong to the ontological trash bin of the empty set ∅, they are even beyond the scope of outliers and non-normal statistical distributions.  But those “non-events” are the very stuff that random processes in general are made of; they simply cannot be accounted for, they cannot be predicted, they cannot be measured or perceived, and yet they belong to the very fabric of being and becoming.  Something did not happen, therefore we have X at time t.  All we can know is X at time t. 

But the realm of Utopia is not about X at time t.  Its domain is that of the lost horizon, the inaccessible, the unreachable; it is beyond speculation, beyond prediction.  I took the synchronicity one step further, playing with the title of the movie with respect to the Singularity, that the horizon gets lost at the Singularity, i.e., it vanishes, at which time Utopia would broach the epistemological domain of X at time t.

- - - - - 
This entry is dedicated to all the Micha-El's I know and have known.

Monday, September 26, 2011

Alison of the Barren Desert

Here’s a little romantic interlude, fundie-preacherboy style.

One Sunday back in them infernal days of SoCal drought in 1980, when I was a nineteen-year old righteous preacher-boy fundie doing his fundie preacher-boy thing, I met a lady who was about eight or nine years’ my senior at a church luncheon after services.  What broke the ice was while we were gathering grub at the buffet, when she voiced her opinion that she had thought other denominations were equally valid, and I had told her that she was wrong, because they were all false churches.  She must’ve been impressed with my forthrightness or something, coupled with my being a spry young bony lad with almost-confrontational intensity, that we had somehow hit it off. 

She told me her name was Alison (I figure since this was thirty-one years ago, the “statute of limitations” is up, so yes, that was her real name), who was visiting with her folks (her folks didn’t do church).  She was all the way from Connecticut, apparently from a wealthy home, and had that Connecticutesque accent and ways of saying things that charmed me.  Her energy was vibrant and warm.  She had long dark hair, brown eyes, and was quite pretty.  And highly educated, intelligent, and articulate; I think she was a school teacher, although I might be remembering that part incorrectly.  She had fit the dark-sister anima mode that I had been seeking, so a connection got made on subtle levels.  We started resonating together right off the bat while we lunched.  She was only staying the weekend, so she and her folks were taking off the next day. 

After lunch she took me to the condominium where they were staying, I met her folks, and we made a date for the evening: a movie and dinner.  Her parents were very happy their daughter had met me, and were excited on her behalf.  Alison looked very happy too, and that made me glad.  Being an empath, I immediately sensed that she had undergone some kind of adversity just recently, but I didn’t ask. 

That evening I drove to their condo; I chatted briefly with her parents and we were off to town (Palm Springs).  We went and saw Martin Scorcese’s Raging Bull of all movies, a rather macho flick, but we both liked it.  We then went to a restaurant that was on the restaurant row, a cozy place with its back turned toward the San Jacinto Mountains, toward mystical Tahquitz Canyon; we said a prayer before our dinner, not giving a shit about what other smirking diners thought.  We conversed non-stop.  The conversation was sometimes light, sometimes not.  She had told me that she suffered a nervous breakdown, and that she was recovering.  I sensed no heaviness from Alison the whole time we were together, even when she spoke of her breakdown.  I sensed the residual stuff more from her parents than Alison herself.

We went to my apartment that night.  I don’t remember how that happened, but it did, and I had thought that I had made a mistake.  I was a righteous preacher-evangelist boy, so I didn’t do premarital sex (any more) … I wasn’t afraid of my self-control, but I became aware that I might have inadvertently led Alison on.  Alison was attractive and I was very fond of her, and it was obvious she felt the same way about me.  And when the crucial moment came, we were standing in the kitchen when she spoke of wanting intimacy, and had said that she was too afraid to initiate it.  I remember the following words she spoke, verbatim: “I feel so inhibited.”  She stared into my eyes.  I stared into her eyes.  We stood that way, silent, for several minutes.  I just stood.  Like stone.  Didn’t budge.  Didn’t even lift a finger, literally, to comfort her.  Nothing.  I might as well have been a statue of St. Francis of Assisi. 

I drove Alison back to her parents’; she was quiet, and her energy had dropped.  She was dejected, and I had let her down.  When she opened the truck door to leave, she moved toward me and kissed me on my lips.  I didn’t flinch.  She said goodbye, and I think I did as much.  I never saw Alison again.  She wrote me a postcard from Connecticut a month or so later, and it made me glad; I wrote her back, I think, and that was pretty much the end of it. 

I recall this with my current understanding.  I had thought that I was strong, of strong faith, and so forth so on.  I was authentic, yeah, I was the real deal.  But was I able to comfort Alison, this delicate, lonesome person who had been recovering from a breakdown, who reached out for my affection, wanting some warmth, some kindness, some basic, healing, physical contact?  Was I strong enough to do that?  No, I wasn’t. My so-called "faith" was far too fragile for that, so I tenaciously grasped onto my staunch, dogmatic convictions, shut out everything and everyone else, thinking that I was saving my soul and hers’, all the while not realizing that I was still lost, and yet to be found. 

Dedicated to Alison     


Saturday, September 17, 2011

On Assertions of Existence in General

Ontologies of paradigms θi (Quine would say theories, but I'm taking a broader view) are their domains of discourse, also referred to as universes of discourse Λn.  They have admissible and inadmissible objects with respect to their epistemic scope.  Paradigms can be compartmentalized, in which case we would be justified in speaking of universes (in the plural) of discourse Λn with respect to a singular paradigm.  

x [xΛ1] or its logical equivalent ~(x) [x Λ1] is an assertion that x = ∅ with respect to Λi (it is suggestive that x would thus be a subset of Λ1, for all x).  It is also suggestive that if there is even one Λi (say, Λ1) in which x = ∅, then   
∀x [Λi θ1 .. x  i(i = 1, 2, …)Λi]

regardless of the fact that even if the statement that x  Λi in which i ≠ 1 holds true for all Λi, there will always be reason to doubt the veracity of the assertion, if θ1 were the paradigm with universes of discourse Λi (i = 1, 2, ... ), that (x) [x  paradigm θ1]. 

Note that this is not the same as making a general statement that "there is no x," i.e., that x does not exist.  x is consigned to the null set relative to or with respect to lambda, so x does not exist in lambda, the paradigmatic universe of discourse.  Nothing else is being stated.    

This is merely simple fact and indisputable, as it is almost tautologically obvious.  What a marvelous fact it is, friends; reflect for a moment.  It means that if you want to argue a point ethically, scientifically, and correctly, you must remain true to your paradigm's inherent delimitations and horizons of epistemological demarcation.  And as such, the correct attitude, perhaps to employ an E-Prime sort of idea and the logic of belief, would be to preface or append: 'according to my paradigm' to all ontologically based assertions.

This is the problem with fundamentalist thinking with respect to paradigms.  A person A who embraces paradigm θ1 and person B who embraces paradigm θ2 of which x [x θ1θ2] cannot absolutely assert the existence or non-existence of x in terms of universal quantification; x exists or does not exist only relative to a Λn ⊂ [θ1 ∨ θ2]. In short, what is bullshit in one paradigm could be truth in another, and the twain can only meet in metalinguistic space that transcends both paradigms.