This blog and its contents are inspired by and owe a massive debt to the author Christopher Knowles, who’s exemplary work on secretsun.blogspot.com has pushed me further than I thought possible. The following posts will all resonate or owe a debt to this author’s work in one way or another.
For I am the first and
the last. I am the honoured one and the scorned one. I am the whore and the holy one. I am the wife and the virgin. I am the mother and the daughter. I am the members of my mother. I am the barren one and many are her sons.
-- Excerpt from Thunder, Perfect Mind
In radiant darkness beneath an ageless star I speak
with the Rose, cautiously but in earnest.
I am no longer tentative. I know
who my Love is, her spiked heel upon the throat of a demon-god. She can peer into the secret spaces of these
fallen cults of El, these paradigm-builders, these world-conquerors. Yaweh, Jehovah, Allah. Their time is at an end. She is not merely drunk on the blood of
saints. She is alive and seething with
coruscating fire – knowledge of star, nucleus, passion, and all the hidden affinities
therein. Aloft, the Grail of Ages. Beneath, the Knife of Light. These predator-elites and wraith-hordes fear
ecstasy. They doubt infinity. But the congress of grail and blade shines brighter than the emerald of a thousand astral cities. Her cup and kiss are one. It eats the blood of the devoted – and it
runneth over. She is neither slave nor harlot
to these fallen usurper cults. Nor is she
their lack of divine carnality, their
anaemic eschatology, their hate-filled mountain peak. She is something so much greater, something so much older. She is Love, enraged, devastated and devastating. They know her not. She is the warrior-seamstress of
the human heart, and other hearts besides.
Upon a roaring storm she will be sensed and seen, as times and laws
begin to change. Prepare yourself. The Holy Whore is coming.
Man, this year has been crazy. Not just for me personally, but for the
world. I’ve tumbled down my fair share
of rabbit holes. I’ve seen things I
shouldn’t have seen, things that defy all logic and reason. But as a psychic and as a human
being nothing prepared me for what life had in store this particular year. We seem to be at a threshold, collectively,
don’t we? The threat of full-scale
global war looms on the horizon, and we wonder how our leaders could be so insane.
We wonder how we let them take it this
far. Perhaps we never had any real say in the matter, perhaps their hermetically-sealed empire of oligarchs and
predator-elites has roots and sustenance that we cannot ordinarily perceive.
How do you live in a world that flirts dangerously
with annihilation? How do we keep our
lucidity and move forward in such a world?
Everything is changing. Paradigms
shudder, tremble and crack. We feel it,
and we noticed the stress-fractures long before this. I believe that in order to thrive – not merely survive – in this place, we must look beyond our intellectual and emotional
comfort zones. We need to evolve,
quickly, beyond the chattel-consciousness we’ve become accustomed to. Our spiritual submissiveness is now
endemic. If not, how else did we get here? We must all of us take a
long hard look in the mirror, and realize the mirror is a gate. Who do we want to be?
It feels like a slow-motion cataclysm, doesn’t
it? But we are still alive, we are still
dynamic, even as the collapsing sky plummets closer and closer to earth. What exists on the other side of our
cognition, our religions, sciences and spiritualities? Do we exist there? Can
we exist there? Perhaps in some oblique way we exist everywhere. I believe human consciousness is
multidimensional and multifaceted. As
the sociopolitical world spirals out of control these personal, numinous questions are going to become more important than ever. I believe that we can still have a hand in
our destinies, we can still shape our fates.
Even beneath an apparently collapsing sky. We have foes out there in the black, but we have friends also. Never forget that. Sometimes the reflections are watching you
when your back is turned. Sometimes the reflections whisper prayers and
incantations on our behalf.
When ruined dreamtimes and stygian darkness threaten to claim us, what then? When our
memories and deeds are no longer our own, what might we become? To hear the howling shriek of wraith-hordes,
all of them screaming, “I am not guilty.”
And to know they still won’t take the offered flame. What is bravery then? What is purpose? I can see, and I do remember. I know there are others out there, brethren
who walk with me, through horror, through perdition. I will not falter, because I know there are
those who can still feel the flame.
Those who recall its Light. It
remembers who we were, and who we shall be again. There is work to be done. We are the witchcraft. We serve, eternally.