Sunday, 19 January 2014

Roaring Black Bordello

Amid Night Suns has a few surprises in store for you, dear readers.  We have just scratched the surface of the year 2014, and in the spirit of new beginnings and new perspectives I wanted to present a unique kind of post for your visceral and intellectual engagement.  I want to build upon all the established content I have presented on this blog in the last few years, but also to stretch what Amid Night Suns is capable of -- to deliver work that is perhaps a little unexpected.  My work here is often concerned with processing and gaining insight from the Shadow aspect of the human psyche, and as such my video-content is at the very least kind of intense.  However, in 2014 I want to create posts that are not just concerned with empowerment but with celebration.  I want this new year to have a spring in its step and a glint in its eye, and to bring the experience of joy to the forefront of this blog.  Don't worry though, I'm not intending to abandon the somewhat Gothic aesthetic of Amid Night Suns, as this would be akin to abandoning the most intimate part of my soul.  But I do want to balance the Darkness with a little more Light.  I want to celebrate life with you, as much as I still intend to analyse and explore it with you.  I sincerely hope this post does just that; stirs and thrills you in just the right way.


As I have discussed at Amid Night Suns a number of times, it is my belief that Art is the Oldest Magick.  I mean to say that the process of creating art and the act of receiving and appreciating it is quite literally a powerful magical occurrence.  I believe that art can literally as well as metaphorically bend Space and Time. I also believe that such creativity is deeply intertwined with sexuality and joy.  For me, as a writer and video-editor among other things, I experience joy when I create content for this blog.  The same kind of joy and power and freedom that I experience when I spend time behind closed doors with the woman I love.  This is because during such activities I become active, alert, switched-on.  I am not gripped by feelings of inadequacy or insecurity; some strange fear that I am merely a passive negation, an absence rather than a presence.  No, in those moments I am as alive as I will ever be.

Fingers on a keyboard, picking up a paintbrush or a pen, caressing the flesh of a lover  -- such things are Apex Experiences full of raw, explosive and transformational power.  For those of you who read my previous post, with the slightly tongue-in-cheek title of How to F**k, you'll know that I briefly discussed the ways in which our sexuality has been co-opted and circumscribed by 'society'.  From that post:

What bothers me is when men and women are forced into a kind of permanent hyper-anxiety regarding sexuality and their own bodies.  They desperately fear that they're not attractive enough or good enough, and some external authority or validation is needed to heal those feelings of incompleteness or inadequacy.  If we find ourselves in a situation where a deeply sick and corrupt authority is telling us what we can and cannot create, who and how to fuck, or who we can or cannot marry -- then we must acknowledge that something is deeply wrong.  Our most intimate and personal freedoms have been stolen from us and replaced with hideous facsimiles. 

It's certainly true that the corrupt and powerful have filled us with anxiety and insecurity in order to sell us things we don't need, to make us more easily controllable and to consolidate their wealth and power. But ultimately we decide what we do with our bodies, hearts and minds. The power-crazed elites in this world (or the machine they serve) can attempt to own us in every conceivable way; they can control our access to resources and disposable income, they can delineate our lives from on high -- but if we don't give them our imaginations then they don't really own us at all.

Remember this:  WE DESIGN THE RULES, AND THE SCRIPT.  We either do it consciously and actively, or we let corrupt elites do it in our names by turning a blind eye as they ghost-write the most intimate moments of our lives.  But it doesn't have to be like that.  We can re-imagine the world anew.  We can envision a world brimming with vitality and trembling on the cusp of change -- and we can choose in our bodies and hearts and minds how we move forward in such a strange, magical realm.  The darkness and corruption will always be there, and will always demand to be acknowledged, explored and robbed of its power to enslave us.  But we can also decide to retake control of sex, creativity and fun, to make the most of joyful expression.  We can click our fingers and tap our feet, and turn within to find the beat.  


Society's hidden engineers may seek to enslave the feminine essence -- to kill her and butcher her a thousand times over, to twist her by force into something she herself no longer recognizes -- but ultimately, in the most intimate sanctum of the imagination, they fail utterly.  What do I mean by this?  Well, you can try to tear a goddess from her contexts and nuances, you can attempt to sacrifice all her subtleties for your own edification, but she will outsmart you eventually.  The Divine Feminine can be the Virgin and the Whore, the Daughter and the Mother, the Creator and Destroyer.  Attempting to collapse her multidimensional nature and remove her complexities is deeply foolish and ill-advised.  Hecate knows what I'm talking about.  As does Lilith, and Kali, and even Ishtar.  If you try to suppress and slaughter a goddess you'll eventually find her at your door with poison on her lips and a pistol on her hip.  You think I'm kidding?  Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.  So don't piss off a celestial female.  You may or may not live to regret it.

Our love affairs are intimately wrapped up in the stories we know and adore, or hate.  When it comes to matters of love and lust we humans are all a host of characters, personas, ciphers and metaphors.  Or as Shakespeare said, All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players.  We don't act on this stage called Life in spite of love, we act because of it.  A kiss or a kind word from a lover is enough to make our hearts boom like a gunshot, or heal our wounds like a living miracle.  A rejection or cruel curse from that same lover is often enough to slit open our psyches and spill our vulnerability across the ground - running red and naked and exposed.  But real love cannot be killed.  It moves like gods and goddesses move; adapting, embracing, defying complete definitions.  Love is not just a beautiful woman in a red dress, or a butterfly on a pin, although she can be those things and many more besides.  Love is an insight that never sleeps, a capacity that never rests, and a knowledge that never lets go.

Awaken, My Love...


The people in this world who choose Hate instead of Love, and control over others rather than control over themselves; these people don't understand how lonely and broken they are.  They can make the world a bordello, and cover the city with glitter, they can call us sinners every time we attempt to cut loose and express our joy -- but they are infinitely more enslaved and controlled by their own pathology and appetites than we humble folk could ever be.  They seek to bind us as they themselves are bound.  But we have secrets, don't we?  We know things that they can never know.  They may have all the wealth in the world and spotlights that sweep the night sky, but they can't own the things we do. Why do you think the elites always seek to absorb and re-appropriate the counterculture and the underground?  Because they want a taste of our magick. They want to know how me move, how we dance, how we fuck -- because they can't do it like we can. Like vampires of legend they crave our lifeforce.  It's all they can think about.  We the people invented authenticity and style, and substance.  We invented the sky.  It belongs to us.  It's our birthright.

So, dear reader, remember that we make the rules.  We decide how far is never, and we celebrate our freedom and uniqueness at every opportunity.  Not in an uncomplicated egotistical sense, defining ourselves only in opposition to our controllers -- but in the complex language spoken and shared only by artists, visionaries and dreamers.  Ours is a language that the vampires and pimps and madams are desperate to understand, but without the holy communion of sex, art and intellect burning like a star from within they will never, ever truly grasp what it means to speak as we can speak, or live as we can live - with fire, fury and joy.

So take flight, and rise above and beyond this bordello city.  YOU define the terms and colours and music of your life -- not the corrupt elites who call you a coward and a whore, yet secretly crave your light.

The Sky is yours.  Ride it. 

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