Sunday, 4 December 2016
Here Among Monsters
We live with abuse, far too much of it. Economic, social, sexual and spiritual. And still we deny that we are ruled by things that care very little about us. When you spend your life investigating human-trafficking networks and hellish corruption in high places, you tend to adopt a rather Gnostic worldview. Or at least I have. I’ve seen monsters, human and otherwise. I’ve seen people hurt other people of their own volition, and also through sinister, unseen inspirations. This is nothing new or special or unique. Many psychics, sensitives and ritual magicians have seen these things too. Truth, though vital, is often a terrifying thing. But without truth, without integrity, we are merely prey. Wishing the dark things away does not stop them from existing. But we can arm ourselves with knowledge, with courage and kindness.
For me, art is such a lifeline. Amid Night Suns and the video-content I create here is an altar of sorts. A place where I can send my intention and my magick not only into the world but into the deepest strata of my own consciousness. The greatest battles we face are within. It might be a truism, but with good reason. Healing from any kind of misfortune is difficult enough. Attempting to heal from physical, sexual or spiritual abuse is like trying to process a cataclysm, like trying to mend a slaughtered star. It’s the worst, heaviest, most estranging kind of darkness. To be abused is to be made inhuman. The kind of psychopathy that thrills at such things can never truly be understood by a rational human mind. Because it’s not truly ‘rational’. It’s part of a larger, darker ecology. But we resist these forces that wish to remove our dignity, our personhood. We Magi have always resisted them. We resist them in our words and deeds, our art and our magick. People think art and culture means nothing in the face of slave-gods and rape-kings. They fear that art is powerless in the face of evil. But art and culture is the archive of everything we truly are, the archive of our souls. Without it we are bereft. Without this ability to create meaning, to call down the lightning, to traverse hidden realms, we are not even present in our own lives.
That fire was stolen at great cost, a gem gifted to each of us. It is the liminal essence of who you are, and the thing this multidimensional empire of abusers and archons fear the most. Why? Because this flame has the power to heal the wounded and reanimate the slain. This fire can restore the humanity that the monsters are so desperate to wrest from our grasp.