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.