Black Sun Rising

And so we walk the long mile, humanity all together, a frail small species, a tiny marsupial that managed to dodge enough dinosaurs and hungry bears to build cities and skyscrapers, to aim its viscous and sometimes clumpy genome to the Stars.

Humanity walks its own Green Mile.

I had a Dream the other night that has been lingering, the only way to process it is this, a few words and letters jumbled in my head, disgorged on a screen through my fingers, a motley collection of thoughts and prophecies, an attempt at personal cohesion.  Deep breath.

I dreamt of a Black Sun.  In the beginning I thought it was Saturn but then I gleaned that it had no rings, no definitive substance, no real reflection in places like my head.  It was black and emitted no light.

This Black Sun certainly did not belong in my thoughts, it did not have coordinates or dimensions and much resembled a gelatinous nebulous mercurial mirror.  The reflection of something tangible, such as a looking glass  was the first thought that actually penetrated my understanding, a notion with substance, an actual thing with which to grasp logic.

I gravitated closer to the Black Sun in an attempt to examine it further and something akin to an oil spill shifted on the ebony surface.  Braving my fears I took one decisive step to find myself skirting its edges.

Who in their right mind sticks their fingers in electrical sockets?  Who licks their digits after dipping their hand in a suspiciously unknown medically metallic smelling concoction on a professors desk? (don’t ask)  Who takes candy from strangers?  

The Innocent, that is who.

And so, innocent in my predicament of temporary insanity I stare At God.  Or a god, so to speak.

A singularity, a place where information finds a common axis and all that ever is was and will be amount to One.  Sound familiar?  So you can imagine my surprise when what was meant to be familiar appeared to be the most incomprehensible notion ever encountered. A God and a real thing are actually One and the same.  Notice the semantics in these concepts? This is not coincidental, it is the Truth.

My fingers dare to skim the surface safe in the isolation of my mediations and imagination, and tingle through dimensions.  I watch mesmerised as I dip my hand deeper.  The information that is my hand fingers and nails dissolves like honey diffusing in pool of warm tea.  The data regarding colours and smells, textures and shape fizzles away in strands of codes and numbers, devoid of actual existence and presence.

I retract my hand and find it to be intact, disappointingly lacking in any kind of mutation extraterrestrial, corporal or otherwise.  This all just is and it seems as insignificant as the moment I encountered it but in its attempt to blend itself into the construct of my reality it gives away its presence. If this doesn’t make sense now it will later.

Then I stepped into the obsidian pool within a melangerie of what can only be a personal reflection of what reality and life might indeed be: A process of fragmented Unity, a crack in the fabric of the Perfect, like a fault in a flawless diamond, looking into it you must define the imperfection to realise that it exists in a perfect state.

There is nothing else there but the all, fragmented, the entirety of life a result of a mistake, but absolutely consummately excellent in its integrity, ubiquitous in its nature, the same for every single thing, person or idea that ever happened. It all Is with no ‘because’. A causeless state of singularity experiencing itself within each of us.

Who is writing this shit anyway? Sometimes I read back the things I have documented and question their origin but all these concepts, all these ideas and notions are eating me up inside to the point of eruption.

The Black Sun, the Singularity, the Point of Convergence, a place in my head that I prod at more and more as Death roams the streets.  A Black Hole walking, consuming everything, families, lives, loves and children; the Horsemen ride as their star rises

My Fire

Humanity is on the brink of a complete transformation, transubstantiation, transference of energy that will morph us from one species into another.  

In an attempt to overcome our fear of Death, the ultimate gift of Gaia that we so disrespectfully scorn, we will cocoon ourselves within the confines of what makes us feel safe.

Here in the arms of our real selves we will be force to encounter the Truth, a force so brilliant and so consuming, it will extinguish us from within, igniting the spark that will transmute our very kind.

The Phoenix stirs within us, do not ignore the Flames that will set You Free. 

Randomness

Some randomness regarding this crazy situation.

I was standing in the kitchen when it hit me, the intense knowing of the imminent tsunami of emotion, an obliterating tidal-wave that is getting ready to smash peoples realities to smithereens.  

Death stalks, the Reaper is at large and the clickety-clack of its boney fingers can be heard in places as close as next door; as my neighbour coughs day and night I frantically attempt to disinfect the corridor in a pathetic attempt to keep out air.

Richard calls it ‘FOD’ , fear of death.  It’s something we experienced in the past with our relative cancers.  Both he and I had the luxury of ‘time’ though.  We knew we had at least X amount of time before destiny took hold, and within our small realities with whatever courage, hope and surrender we managed to muster we took on the echos and ghosts of our past actions, thoughts and sins.  

Humanity does not have this cursed luxury though. Humanity is collectively facing the ripples of a gigantic quake within its very core.  

I walked into Sainsbury’s just this morning and found myself in an episode of Black Mirror, a twisted David Lynch scenario where every self was empty.  Just yesterday they were full, this could not be the same place, the same reality, the same Peacehaven, it felt like I had walked onto a  set of some movie.  But I got my prawns.

Back in my kitchen I could feel fear nipping at my heels, slowly making its way up my calves, the back of my legs.  The more I kick, the harder it tugs, like falling in a deep pit backwards, but fall is what I must do.  Struggling will only make it worse, surrender is the only way to fall through the Veil.  And then fear dissolves into Time.

  

Musings of a Muse

Have you ever had that moment of realisation, a moment so powerful it floored you?  I mean literally floored you?

There you are, standing at a window looking out into the dusk of the darkest day of the Year and something akin to a shimmer disrupts the web of your reality.  Almost indiscernible, perhaps something in your eye, but no, it is the realisation that you are a slave to forces much more brutal than you had at first imagined.

Seconds later, a fraction of a second perhaps, and you experience the knowledge of tearing through a veil of Truth.  Your entire life has led you to believe that the ‘Truth’ you have been seeking, the coveted ‘Grail’ you longed for was something that was due to you, something owed you.  Well permit me to let you in on a little secret: If you had any idea what the ‘Truth’ consisted it would lead to insanity.  I liken it to the feeling a moth must get when the occupant of the web she has been ensnared in makes an appearance.

Still there seems to be a degree of strength and some semblance  of intelligence that retains, a little piece of you hidden behind the atrocities of your thoughts.  Everything around you seems alien, IS alien, and you also become alien.

A few years ago I tried ayahuasca.  Fuck that, a few years ago I took a sabbatical and went exploring the world of psychedelic entheogens. I must have taken ayahuasca at least 50-60 times.  Somewhere in my bookshelf are perhaps 23 entry dockets from the condor eagle festival in 2012. Then I stayed in Padre Coche in Peru for over 12 days. And then there was Norwich, which I mention in a few of my blogs. Yeah, so, over 60.

Over 60 nights spent reliving horror stories and processing traumas to the point that healing becomes the only option.  Over 60 nights of Ego Death, then re-birth in the arms of Dawn.  Then you go and do it all over again until you never need to die that death again, or so the story goes.

Life goes on.  You go back to work, you manage a shop, you have kids, heck you get married to someone who has cancer, life stuff goes on and re-reborn you carries the spark of understanding through the tutorage of the Teacher Plant.

But for some of us, people like me who are not convinced that our journey is in fact ‘over’, that somehow we have reached that mythical Kansas, or that promised Ithaca, that somehow after all our quandaries all our turmoil and troubles we are now in Nirvana enjoying the fruits of our sacrifices and tears.  Some people like me press on to deeper waters in order to catch the big fish.

The years go on, one profound revelation tides into the other, all pool into a rushing torrent that can only be labelled as  Life.  And then its over.  What was it all about?

No literally I am asking.  ‘What was it all about?’.

Existentialists will argue that life is for life sake, that it is a result of a long line of reactions, chemical and otherwise, all in synchrony vibrating creating reality around you.  

Within these energy frequencies there is Us, you and me and all the human beings that make up humanity, all vibrating and experiencing Life differently.  And then, before you know it, the Apocalypse is actually upon you.  The actual feckin Apocalypse complete with people you know, and possibly even you, dying.

Just the other day, for the first time in what seems like a lifetime I felt fear.  A deep and resonating feeling, nebulous and pervasive, almost thick with anxiety and dread.  A feeling so familiar it speaks to your primal self, so personal it is embedded in your DNA since the dawn of our species. 

The Reaper walks among us and our leaders opened the door proving that we are nothing but chattel,  fodder, expendable slaves who could do with a good culling. No matter the reason though, Thanatos stalks our streets and I tremble, not because Death claims, but because we let it happen.

“some of us will lose Loved Ones” Johnson said.  Is this how dismissively he thinks of those he loves? So little that he willingly throws them in the path of grief, suffering and for some anguish and endless pain? 

I want my life to have meant something, I have a deep desire to be acknowledged and appreciated.  I believe every person on this planet has this right, so why is it denied us on the most fundamental point?  Why are so many peoples dreams and hopes being incinerated for the few to prevent the even fewer from losing their wealth?

This moment of realisation that everything is not what you think it is meant to liberate you, but how can you become free when all there is to escape to is an all pervasive cage?

Let it Be

LET IT BE

When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me

Speaking words of wisdom, let it be

And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me

Speaking words of wisdom, let it be

Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be

Whisper words of wisdom, let it be

And when the broken hearted people living in the world agree

There will be an answer, let it be

For though they may be parted, there is still a chance that they will see

There will be an answer, let it be

Let it be, let it be, let it be, yeah let it be

There will be an answer, let it be

Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be

Whisper words of wisdom, let it be

Yeah let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be

There will be an answer, let it be

Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be

There will be an answer, let it be

And when the night is cloudy there is still a light that shines on me

Shine until tomorrow, let it be

I wake up to the sound of music, Mother Mary comes to me

There will be no sorrow, let it be eeee

Let it be, let it be, let it be, yeah, let it be

There will be no sorrow, let it be

Let it be, let it be, yeah let it be, yeah, let it be

Whisper words of wisdom, let it be

I am sitting in the dark steaming bath listening to the drops echo on the granite floor and tiles.  In front of me is my friend Sunny observing at me with a smile, curly waxed moustache and all.  He is surrounded by light and I cannot tell what age he is, all I can tell is that it is well and truly Sunny almost as certainly as day follows night.   

He wants to tell me something but I am too melancholy to notice, all I can do is stretch my right arm out in an attempt to touch him.  His translucent hand covers mine over his Heart.  His Dragon Heart.

‘Let it be….’ Echo the walls faintly.  I understand now.

The song is a riddle and the answer is surrender.  The tears stop, they are worthless now, if you have surrendered then there is nothing to fear any longer. 

Now get this:  She is there.  Her.  The Mother.  Always there.  Before and After.  She is there in the hour of sorrow because She is Kali.

Kali saying “Let go, surrender. Look I am beheading you.  This is the End”.  Then you Wake to Mother surrounded by music, the Apocalypse of the Lie of Death.  No.More.Sorrow!! Sound familiar?

To exist means to suffer, to surrender is release. This does not equate to non existence, how can you not exist if you have been and are?

Sunny in front of me, blue eyes laughing, sharing the secrets of the universe and my tears have all but ceased, only the slow drip of the faucet disturbs my ghost.  Like a bright flash I see the Merkabah over Sun-birds water purifier, silver bullets of water collecting in the metal pot beneath.  Our Tears assembling for our Souls to be purified; Our Waters to be Blessed and Returned.

This is Netzach, it is Friday the day Love Conquers Supreme.  

I Love You.

Tentacles of Time

As the minutes shed by and the hours unfurl I am becoming ever so slightly viscous, tacky, a little sticky so to speak.  Things tend to adhere to me, to not flow, almost as if my skin is blending into my surroundings, like I am melting into the background of reality. I pick things up, they fall, I open the cupboard items coming flying out at me, I attempt to close doors but they remain stubbornly wedged into the aether.  This is happening more frequently and more apparent day by day.

Is this what it means to become old, is this what happens? Do we slowly disintegrate and smelt into the dark matter of the living universe?  Thawing into strands of energy which slowly dissolve into the cocoon of death? All our memories stuck, cemented in the past with no way of us taking them with us; as our minds race through the maze of time memories light up our way, but their shine lasts only to the next turn, the next twist of the tale.

Sometimes I feel as if I have tentacles, as if I have tentacles all round me, growing out of my own aura or body.  The older I grow the more prominent they become.  The more prominent they become the more I realise that I was not all I seemed to be, existing in paper thin dimensions I grew too big for.  

This spark of consciousness within me seems to be incinerating my life, it seems to be burning me alive.   Read that slowly:  Burning me, alive.  And what shall come out of this flaming crescendo, this decades old swan song?  I close my eyes and let my tentacles wrap round me. 

The answer is ‘I have no clue’, all I know is that I continue, 

As I write this I search myself on the meaning of this ‘I’.   Once I presumed that I was ‘I’, all that I knew and beheld around me, my friends, my job, my family.  But as the thorns of old age strip at my soft declining flesh and my joints fail to meet the demands of my constant desires, this frail and flimsy body is giving up its secrets as it becomes more and more transparent.  I am dying, but what is happening to ‘I’, the ‘I’ that created all this in the first place?

‘I’ is changing, transforming.  ‘I’ is growing tentacles, can ‘see’ things with my brethren’s eyes, ‘I’ is numinous.  ‘I’ is invincible, immortal, forever, ‘I’ is doing you a favour in letting you die; away with rotting, lying, killing flesh, away with the memories of your awful birth, away with the pain of fear, away with loss and hurt. ‘I’ cannot make the anguish stop, but it lets you know it’s okay, it’s alright, it’s natural.  

'I' is me in the future, it always was.

The Flames

Geburah Shalom

The whole world is turning Red.  Red with Blood.  Red with Anger.  Red with Hate.  Even my Tears are turning Red.

I can’t stand it any longer.  But there is no way out, if I want to complete this spin on the Wheel of Karma in vain hope that my efforts will be rewarded in the Lands Beyond the Veil, then I shall endure till the end.  Perdurabo.   Isn’t that what….?

So I find myself on the road which the Frtr before me took, almost as if knowingly both of us understood the manner in which this Path would crush and deform us, yet still the ultimate prize is too tempting to forego.  Even Alan knows this.  Behold  I was once as White as snow and now I am Scarlet and Delirious.  Fraters’ next Crimson Priestess, an idol of an Eon born of Holy Fire and Sulphur.

I shall not give in to the rage that threatens to suffocate me with a fiercer passion than any transient encounter could ever surrender.  It will pervert and warp me, and still I shall endure.

I can hear the Horses howling as the time of reckoning draws nearer.  Every man, woman and child will have to account for thine own regrets; my regret is that I might be too late to stop the resurrection of the flames from within.

‘YOU are your own judge and jury, within YOU dwells the ultimate Abyss.  Tame yourself and Know Thy Self.  If you succeed you will not need to Die any longer, intact and whole you will extend beyond this frail veil of mortality and sorrow’.

And so I endure.  And so Today is Geburah and Hod follows and leads the way.  Mercy after that, submerging into Love.  Shall I tame these passions too? 

‘Why of course you shall!! You Must!! The prize is invaluable, the Crown is within reach’.

I close my eyes and stretch, this is all too much.  To concentrate the Universal Principles of Order and Chaos into 42 possible states of dynamics and force is just Lunacy, best off done on a Monday.