Saturday, May 21, 2011

On False Apocalypses

"The apocalypse is not something which is coming. The apocalypse has arrived in major portions of the planet and it's only because we live within a bubble of incredible privilege and social insulation that we still have the luxury of anticipating the apocalypse. If you go to Bosnia or Somalia or Peru or much of the third-world then it appears that the apocalypse has already arrived.” 
--- Terence McKenna

Today is the day of the evangelical fraud of the so-called 'judgment day,' a day that makes a mockery of all things eschatological and apocalyptic in the world.  Eschatology is an existential comportment to being-as-such with respect to the vulnerability of what it means to be, to be in a finite, mortal, biological body; the apocalypse is the realization of the sum of all existential fears, and judgment day is the culmination and turning point, a crossroads of remaining entrenched in failed ideologies and all their historical activities, or waking up to something evolved, to a co-creative self-understanding, a realization of interdependence with absolutely everything, to a mode of being that interweaves with the resonance of the planet, the cosmos, and all its fellow inhabitants.

Fear-based evangelicalism and fundamentalism are making their usual attempts at psychic blackmail and pulling the wool over their sheep's eyes, even as they are continuously exposed for what they are: Falsehood and Poison, in their vilifications of nature, of the feminine, of the liberated, of the beautiful, of the peaceful, and of the authentic.

But the hubbub's collective wave and fervor have been alchemically transmuted; even base dirt (and in this case, base bullshit) can be turned to priceless gold; bilious poison has been converted to mystical medicine.

   

Friday, May 20, 2011

From a Dream Journal Entry

April 25-94 (journal continued)

I had a dream the next day after this night, during daylight.  I, in the dream, was walking on a path.  The path seemed to be somewhere in the Orient.  The sun was shining, the sky was blue and there were wisps of clouds.  As I walked the path, there was a flock of unidentifiable and rainbow-colored birds …   

They were the size of flamingos or larger.  They were levitating in the air, as if they were flying but ever so slowly, as if in slow motion.  Since they were barely moving and I was walking, I walked right past them, until I turned to look at them from the side.  One of them, the one nearest to me, began to rotate slowly upwards, facing the sky.  Then it started to move directly skyward, up.  I looked up to the sky above it, and a flying Tori’i  (sacred gate), made of clouds, came flying right over it, as if a gateway was being made.  The bird-creatures were colorful things, rather disturbing in a way.  They had whiskers like those of a Chinese dragon.
           
Now as the flying creatures headed upward toward the Tori’i, I turned around to look behind me.  There was an enormous aircraft---which looked like a space shuttle, or had a space shuttle engine---was plunging head first to the hills and mountains.  The aircraft was made of clouds, so it seemed . . . The same day and night, I learned of the second largest plane crash in Japan's history.  What occurred was that the pilot could not gauge the distance of the ground to the plane properly, and the plane came down nose first. 

I was dismayed as usual by this correlation of noumenal dream to phenomenal incident; I had never felt good after catching this kind of ripple-effect.  I mulled over and over about the ritual.  The ritual truly beefed up the psychic-subtle resonances that night---the spraining of the ankle and the dream were aspects of premonition. 

Friday, May 13, 2011

The Grand Inquisitor


"Under our rule and sway all will be happy, and will neither rebel nor destroy each other as they did while under Thy free banner. Oh, we will take good care to prove to them that they will become absolutely free only when they have abjured their freedom in our favor and submit to us absolutely ... But we will gather the sheep once more and subject them to our will for ever. We will prove to them their own weakness and make them humble again 

". . . We will give them that quiet, humble happiness, which alone benefits such weak, foolish creatures as they are, and having once had proved to them their weakness, they will become timid and obedient, and gather around us as chickens around their hen. They will wonder at and feel a superstitious admiration for us, and feel proud to be led by men so powerful and wise that a handful of them can subject a flock a thousand millions strong. Gradually men will begin to fear us. They will nervously dread our slightest anger, their intellects will weaken ...

". . . What I now tell thee will come to pass, and our kingdom shall be built, I tell Thee not later than to-morrow Thou shalt see that obedient flock which at one simple motion of my hand will rush to add burning coals to Thy stake, on which I will burn Thee for having dared to come and trouble us in our work. For, if there ever was one who deserved more than any of the others our inquisitorial fires--it is Thee! To-morrow I will burn Thee. Dixi'."

Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov (the "Grand Inquisitor" pericope)

Organized religion is and has been a tyrannical force.  That which is not based on national, colonial, or imperially approved/authorized organization is condemned as heresy, as "left-hand path," as spurious heterodoxy, as "infidel," as lowbrow, as evil, and at worst, as devil-worship, a one-way ticket to tarnation.  The religion of the masses, the national institution, the cultural cornerstone, always becomes the standard, the oppressive Tyrannosaurus Rex that tramples on non-conformity and unauthorized spirituality.  And not to mention the infighting and fighting among religions.  All cultural institutions and foundations of national ideologies (judeochristianislamic, hindu, buddhist) disapprove of that which doesn't fit into the delineated confines of their authorized procrustean bed.   

Shamanic and magical heritages are deemed threatening to prevailing religiocultural institutions, in the same way that mind-expanding, involutionary medicines are to societal systems of uniformity and conformity; alcohol is conducive to unquestioning extroversion, even as legal antidepressants and so on shut down faculties of self-reflective introversion.  The inner, invisible landscape (to borrow the concept of the McKenna brothers) must be blocked and walled up, with warning labels posted all over it, to scare the fuck out of would-be dabblers out to test the mysterious waters, who just might start questioning the dogmas of cultural standardizations.
The "governmental coverup" UFO conspiracy is but a ruse; the denial of the inner landscape is the "conspiracy."  UFOs are intimately tied to the inner landscape anyway.  Extraterrestrial UFOs don't pose as much a threat as do all vehicles of psychoterrestrial flight in intrastellar, introgalactic space.  
Authentic, eclectic shamanism allows access and interweaving with morphic fields of telos by way of suprarational mysticism (Note: I am speaking of responsible eclectic shamanism, wise and well-informed; it's not a fancy euphemism for copping a buzz, dabbling with charlatanism, New Agey ego-trip pretentiousness, and a whole lot of other pseudospiritual horseshit).  Organized religions, on the other hand, do the exact opposite; they must dilute, dissuade, forbid, prohibit, efface, deny, vilify, and condemn all unauthorized access to the vast mystical domain.  They used to burn 'em at the stake, for christ's sake.  It is imperative to assert themselves as sole orthodox authority, to have a monopoly, to perpetuate the institution, the facile fabrication that they have come to believe in.  In the same way that colossal corporations uproot local small businesses and competitors, institutionalized religious organizations have a life of their own; they are reptilian dinosaurs of great worldly power and influence, and must perpetually seek that leverage to not only persist and survive, but to further their dominion over the world of inner freedom.

Nietzsche's Prophetic Prolepsis

Who gave us the sponge to wipe away the entire horizon? What did we do when we unchained the earth from its sun? Whither is it moving now? Whither are we moving now? Away from all suns?  Are we not perpetually falling? Backward, sideward, forward, in all directions? Is there any up or down left? Are we not straying as through an infinite nothing?
F. Nietzsche, The Gay Science

The above is a quotation from a larger prophetic pericope, but every metaphorical, rhetorical question in it is a repetition of the same theme.  It bespeaks of the beginning of the end of an aeon.  Nietzsche like Prometheus seized the light of hyperdimensional resonance for the benefit of humanity, and inasmuch as it was yet before its time, as it was wrenched from his contemporaneous future, it sent ripples of shockwaves through his psyche; he in all eventuality retreated into deep unconsciousness, and never rose to the surface again.  

Nietzsche's ecstatic dithyramb, as it provisionally vibrates with our current time here and now (and this might change beyond the 2012 event horizon), is and has been the source of a recurrent theme that characterized the modality of a dying aeon---in the motif of this fall as a beginning of the end (cf. blog article Finnegan: Bricoleur)---an aeon that has already ended.  The news of its end is, for now, yet but a supernal seed, gestating.  

Aftereffects are currently still rippling, symptoms perhaps worsening in various aspects, and healing in terms of others.  Time is still increasing in velocity, and the entrenched masses of beings clench on with all of their might to chreodes of human-historical Habits in the framework of global and local cultures, and everything they entail.  They do not realize that the entire horizon has been sponged away, that the earth has been unchained from its sun, that they have moved away from all suns, that they are in perpetual freefall in a chaotic vortex, even as their Steampunk world grinds on with gargantuan gears, well-greased with virulent lubrication.  For fear and dread of losing the only Machine they know, they clench on, tighter and more desperately than ever.  And they no longer make any bones about it, as they have come to notice, by and by, that they have a death grip.

But it's all alright, believe it or not.  And that's the amazing part of it all.  A new resonance is emerging that is tearing away at the fabric of Steampunk Habits of the unchained earth.  It is still in its infancy, it is still a seed.  But time is moving faster.  And faster.