Tuesday, 27 August 2013

Through the Black Star

First of all, let me say that this post is inspired by Christopher Knowles' recent work over on The Secret Sun, namely his incredibly detailed and fascinating Secret Star Trek series.  But that series was presaged by a post detailing the high weirdness connections to a 1983 low-budget science-fiction movie called Wavelength.  If you haven't watched the movie and read Chris' accompanying post I strongly encourage you to explore both of them.  Chris' thoughts on Wavelength combined with his discoveries concerning Star Trek lit a fire in my imagination and got me thinking about a multitude of possibly interconnected subjects.

It got me thinking about consciousness, human potential, magick, art, unknown entities -- and how all these things might share a connective tissue, an associative or energetic fabric beyond what we can conceptualize or comprehend.  Furthermore, it got me thinking about how certain forces might wish to weaponize this connective link and the more exotic potentials of human consciousness.  What if military intelligence programs such as the CIA's MKUltra were never really about the development of mind control technologies?  What if instead they were about harnessing technologies of the mind?  What if such projects were about harnessing extreme PSI abilities, and the exploration of their connections to psychoactive pharmacology, meditation, lucid dreaming, unseen entities and applied creativity?

Perhaps the elites of this world are actually concerned, as maybe they always have been, with the weaponization of the unfettered human spirit.  Perhaps our DNA, and the consciousness it might house, contains some profound Gnosis concerning the magnitude of our true powers?  What if our DNA, like a biological transceiver, is capable of all kinds of wavelength and frequency modulation -- potentially resulting in capacities that are as yet only imagined in the pages of sci-fi and fantasy?  Is it possible that our genetic helix, like a spiraling tree of light, contains the memories of our true metaphysical origins?  Perhaps our genes contain knowledge of God, and gods, and all their projects and glories and wars.  What if we truly are Vessels of the Incandescent, Keepers of the Innermost Light?  If our enemies somehow knew this with more certainty than most of us, wouldn't they try to capitalize on that fact?  If countries are willing to wage wars for energy-resources such as oil and gas and nuclear power, imagine the kind of secret wars that could be waging to control an infinite energy-source potentially locked within human consciousness?

I have stated time and again at Amid Night Suns that I believe Art is the Oldest Magick.  I believe this literally as well as symbolically.  Moreover, I believe that we humans are living fictions clothed in chemical flesh.  We are sentient stories that have learned the art and magick of storytelling.  We are tulpas and ghosts and eidolons, among other things, given flesh for a brief time.  There are forces in this world, both banal and exotic, that wish to enslave us.  But know this: SLAVERY IS WEAPONIZATION.  It is the covert use of an oppressed group of beings for political, intellectual or 'spiritual' gain.  Slavery is the use of the oppressed as an energy-source, however inefficiently.  I believe we can tap into this energy-source that dwells at our core, and utilize it towards benign ends.  I believe we can nurture and cultivate it through art and learning and applied wisdom.

The Midnight Sun has many faces and many aspects, both Light and Dark.  It resists material reductionism.  It cannot be broken down to mere constituent parts.  But if we attempt earnestly to understand it on its own terms it can begin to show us secrets that stretch beyond the confines of Time and Space  -- it can reveal to us glimpses of the deeper reality, and sometimes much, much more. 

Wednesday, 21 August 2013

The Wraithmakers

I have gazed into the very heart of the human animal.  I have stood trembling just beyond the lip of the Abyssum.  And I saw the Archons.  I saw the wraithmakers in their true forms. I saw their magick made from our lamentation, our forced martyrdom and lost loves.  I heard the fratres absentiam speak in their own incomprehensible tongue, and I understood. I stand here now at the Mouth of Weavers, in the hope of sharing what I know.  Some things cannot be spoken of as truth.  Some things must be uttered as fantasy and fable.  Things such as this.  

Our religions and rituals, our chymic couplings, all stolen and offered back as theater for the dead.  They make our hearts as black diamond, our tongues as bladed kiss.  Our eyes are left to weep, at a lamentation so brutal.  At a gatekeeper so austere.

Is this what we always were?  Is this what we are?

To know that beneath our artifice, rage and glittered votives there is an open wound, a psychic tear that howls in a thousand voices.  Does such knowledge make us any more able?  I would hope so.  To tell memory from madness, to know our strength is utilized by things now unseen to us - it must offer us a certain sobriety and recompense.

I would hope.

For we are not all wraiths.  Beneath our howling and lament we were once as holy vessels; reliquaries of the incandescent.  To be so again...the stuff of poetry...the stuff of fantasy and fable.  Some things cannot be uttered as truth.  Things such as these.

And now the sighted among us must share our sights with the blinded.  We must offer something other than glittered votives.  We must offer the unspoken, and the truth of all we once were.  We must offer a resurrection.