THE PATH LESS TRAVELED

"It was the straying that found the path direct."- Austin Osman Spare

It has been a while, and I'm not sure where or when this post will end. I have had many changes over the last few weeks. That is not really the focus of this post, although it does contribute. I find myself at the Crossroads again, only this time there is a trail into the wilderness that I have been walking for some time now. It is a crooked little path that follows the contours of the landscape, rather than forcing the landscape to follow my contours. This path is not a highway, a two-lane, or even paved, it does not even have a destination, it forks, it doubles back in places, and then it ends abruptly, sometimes concealing even the way back. This is my path, its guardians are Mystery and Silence.

CROSSROADS AND INTERSECTIONALITY

It is always at the borders that the most interesting realities emerge, the overlaps that defy and honor the cultures from which they spring. Whether its a Postmodern Pinoy Pagan, Botswanan Metal Cowboys, or Turkish Industrial Goth, I love it. I have always had problems with so-called Futuristic tales that portray a mono-culture as utopia, or dystopia. Mono-culture is self destructive. Unfortunately, mono-culture is pervasive and seems to be Omnipresent. There are however cracks and the cracks will widen, consider the dandelion as an oracle for the way forward.

What I mean to imply is that there will always be barriers to break through on the path of growth, but this does not mean disregarding all that has gone before. Conversely for true growth, the lessons of the past are crucial, and in the intersection of past and future there is a crack available to be utilized. Inside there is fertile ground.

There is a popular viral image that made its way around the social media not so long ago, it portrayed a Venn diagram with two unconnected circles. One big circle labelled "Your Comfort Zone" and another smaller circle as far removed from the first as possible in the frame, this one labelled "Where the Magic Happens." As accurate and funny as that is, I would suggest that a more accurate Venn diagram would be two overlapping circles, both the same size. The first labelled "Your Knowledge" and the other "The Unknown", the tiny overlap would be, "Where Magic Manifests."

It matters not how much knowledge one accumulates about any subject, one will not truly understand until put into practice. This invites the unknown and challenges the budding adept, that is how experience is gained. Experience teaches adaptability and pattern recognition. Half of finding magic is having a watchful eye. Experience teaches through intersections and overlaps. Sometimes the pattern itself is revealed and everything overlaps just as the door to the unknown swings wide open. That is the moment to cherish, when Saint Serendipitous delivers hers gifts. This only happens at the Crossroads, and only for those souls who have found a light in the darkness.

There are some intersections that lead to sterility and impotence, such is to be expected. "Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit." John 15:2. Others however will yield fruit beyond imagination. Every break with the past is just a pruning that allows more branching and more intersections to occur. Bifurcation, branching, the way of Chaos. Pruning, nurturing, the way of Order. The place where these two meet is the Crossroads.

THE GHOST IN THE MACHINE

If there is a singular object or symbol that I would consider representative of my cosmology, the Mandelbrot set is probably the one. Bounded yet near infinite in all directions. Each part a reflection of the whole, yet continuously variable. Ken Wilber in A Brief History of Everything, writes of Holoarchy, where each Holon is both a part and a whole. This seems to work well with Umberto Eco's assertion that a language scheme based on the labyrinth rather than the tree offers freedom and an infinity of possibilities as each part being also whole.

This all works with the idea of the crooked path that snakes through the wilderness of the human soul. Bounded on either side by that which is not path, yet infinite in the directions it can travel. Each part of the path is a whole unto itself and yet part of something larger. One can travel the path at any speed and reach a variety of destinations and yet remain on the path. There is also always the choice to stop and spend some time getting lost in the labyrinthine depths at any point along the path. Not infinite, near infinite, a Mandelbrot set. 

The concept of the Holon is helpful here; one can say an acorn contains an oak, or that an oak contains acorns, both are true because here part and whole are equivalent. Fractals also illustrate this principle. Not infinite, near infinite. A Holoarchy is the relationship between Holons wherein each Holon at a certain level is made up of Holons of a different level. (There is no hierarchy as each part is dependent upon the other. The common model for this follows:

subatomic particles <-> atoms <-> molecules <-> macromolecules <-> organelles <-> cells <-> tissues <-> organs <-> organisms <-> communities <-> societies

In this example each Holon is a level of organization and each part is descriptive of the whole, no matter which direction you go. The top can be a bottom, a bottom can be a top, and, like a fractal, the patterns evident at one level can be similar to those at another.

The path as it reveals itself to many post-modern sorcerers is eclectic at its best and dilettantism at its

worst.For many it becomes an endless buffet of delights, each as bland and greasy as the rest, but the lights flash pretty colors and now the seasonal flavor is available. Seasonality is a two edged sword. Still others will stop and appreciate the landscape along the way, others still will see its serpentine nature, but still steer clear. The hardiest learn to see in the shadows and find She who is Light in the Darkness (En Erebos Phos.) The most foolhardy run happily into the beckoning tentacles.

Umberto Eco in his epic tome, From the Tree to the Labyrinth: Historical Studies on the Sign and Interpretation, adequately argues that the way Western (Dominant) Culture organizes language is based on the Neo-Platonist ideal of "the Tree of Knowledge". I would argue that the tree myth still dominates much of Western Occult Knowledge also. He proposes a structure more similar to a labyrinth. To illustrate this point he starts chapter one with a comparison of dictionaries and encyclopedias;

In defining a term (and its corresponding concept) the dictionary model is expected to take into account only those properties necessary and sufficient to distinguish that particular concept from others; in other words it ought to contain those properties defined by Kant as analytical (analytical being that a priori judgment in which the concept functioning as a predicate can be deduced from the definition of the subject).

To be distinguished from encyclopedias in the following manner;

This definition does not assign to the dog the properties of barking or being domesticated (because there may be dogs incapable of barking and/or hostile to to humans) and are not part of our knowledge of a language but of our knowledge of the world. They are therefore matter for the encyclopedia.

He goes on to explain the implications this has for our considerations of the metaphysical, but for now this will suffice.

The tree is helpful for differentiating between the various types of encounters one has along the path, but the labyrinth with its serpentine nature helps to more fully express the fullness of those experiences. Each part is whole and contains a pattern similar the whole. Not infinite, near infinite. There is danger here, like Theseus one must prepare a strategy for exiting the labyrinth. One must also be prepared for the wolves along the way.

So he walked for a short time by the side of Little Red Riding Hood, and then he said: 'See, Little Red Riding Hood, how pretty the flowers are about here - why do you not look round? I believe, too, that you do not hear how sweetly the little birds are singing; you walk gravely along as if you were going to school, while everything else out here in the wood is merry.'

Thus the path always returns to crossroads even if the path must be forged.

THROUGH THE FORGE

Not only must the path be forged but so to the seeker must be worked in the forge. It is said that Tubal-Cain is the progenitor of all craftspeople. Smiths, artists, writers, and magicians, we are all of the line of Tubal-Cain and therefore of Cain. Cain is rumored to have been sired by Samael, Lover/Son of Lillith. When we ignite the sacred fire in our soul this is it's source, but it goes much deeper than that.

Early on the path many a seeker identifies with the fire, the flame. The flame however is external, it

is the heat within that allows the seeker to become malleable. The soul of the seeker becomes as iron heated in Tubal's forge awaiting shaping upon the anvil. It is the hammer of the divine that shapes the seeker, but the seeker must choose to claim their right to enter the forge. As the iron is worked it is folded again and again to strengthen it. Each fold collapsing previous experience upon itself until the whole contains all parts and all parts contain some of the whole.

Through out life the seeker will be tempered each time become closer to Unobtainium or Mithril. This process of refinement, hardening the iron is the path. The path always leads through the forge. In the forge the impurities are either burned off or subsumed into the iron. All experience is either incorporated or falls away as slag.

Again and again the seeker returns, to remain malleable, to remove dross, and to keep the inner fire ignited. It is the iron in the blood, forged in a supernova millennia ago that links the seeker to both the inner fire and the stars. As above, so below.

MIRROR OF HEAVEN

As above, so below. This also goes the other way. As below, so above. The part contains the information of the whole that contains the part which in of itself is whole. Not infinite, near infinite. What does this mean for the seeker? The underworld and the empyrean are but reflections of each other. Whither is heaven or hell? All depends on where one's soul does dwell.

According to some of the inner teachings of Freemasonry (which claims lineage from Tubal-Cain), and in particular the book Freemasonry and Catholicism by Max Heindel, Cain and Seth (Adam and Eve's third son) represent the two branches of humanity. Cain having actually been fathered by Lucifer's General, Samael, and Seth being the second born of two human parents (Abel being the first.) The sons and daughters of Cain, and subsequently Tubal-Cain, have souls of fire, and the sons and daughters of Adam and Eve's third son Seth, derived souls of water from Jehovah. Samael's progeny are of the Earth and Fire, Jehovah's of Air and Water. Every part a mirror of the other. If one's soul is born of Fire and Earth, Water and Air would be anathema. So too if one were born of Water and Air, and subjected to Fire and Earth.

As the seeker approaches the Crossroads, benefit will most gained by seeking the path that corresponds to the nature of the seekers soul. This can also be symbolized by the goat and the lamb. Goats are wily, wild, and quite libidinous. Sheep are docile, dependent, and helpless without the flock. Samael is the Goat headed One and represents earthly knowledge, i.e. craft, science. Jehovah represents the sheep that has had its fire dampened by the Water of Heaven. Separate the goats from the sheep, indeed. Each path is valid, as above so below, and vice versa.

At the crossroads, I am presented with three choices, The Highway to Big Box Moral Bankruptcy, The Four-Lane to the Pasture of the Flock, or the thin Goat Path that leads to the Northern Mountains. This the same choice, with cultural variances for each seeker of the path. Each part contains knowledge of the whole and the whole contains each part which is whole in itself. Not infinite, near infinite.

I must go the Sabbatic Goat beckons...

 

By the Waters of Life Restore My Soul

There is a world of difference between bathing for ritual and a Bathing Ritual.

At 5:23 a.m. I awoke. I knew what I had to do. The instructions came in dreams induced by herbal decoctions in form of tisanes and also inhaled as Sacred Smoke. Sts. Cyprian and Michael gave me the instruction.

So I began boiling water, an entire kettle for the herb bath. Half a handful of Skullcap, a handful of Spearmint, and three large pinches of Barberry root. After the kettle sang I set this to steep in the steaming vessel.

Then I put on a pot with three gallons in it and let come to a boil. Meanwhile I read from the Book of John, as I had been previously instructed by St. Cyprian.

When this pot began to boil (not quite rolling), I set it aside and began boiling a third pot with five gallons of water in it. While I waited I sang Lord of the Dance and finished my previous blog post. As the water reached a good strong rolling boil, I prepared a scrub of rose petals, salt, and honey.

I began at sunrise with establishing a sacred space and the recitation of prayers,. Afterwards I entered between the flames of Madre Huesa and Erzengel Michael. Then I applied the scrub. I did my initial rinse with the warm herb infusion, followed by five bowls of cold water. After the salt scrub had been thoroughly rinsed and had intermingled with the herbal  solution, I added the first pot of warm water. again I rinsed five times. The boiling water was added slowly to avoid injury. I then did another round of prayers and holy songs, I soaked until the water was cold.

The tub was drained while reciting more prayers. Final rinse with bowls of cold water. Then I sat on a towel on the floor basking in the sun streaming through my open window. When dry, I said a final round of prayers and thanked all spirits High and Low that attended for their presence. 

I feel very vital, alive, and infused with spirit. Have a blessed day.

If God's a Willing and the Creek Don't Rise

Memorial Day weekend, my family, my wife and our two kids, got trapped by rising flood waters along the San Gabriel River. This is the second time in my life that flood waters have affected me, but this time was very different. When I was about ten years old our house flooded while my brother and I were at my Dad's house, my mother faced that flood alone. This time I was fortunate enough to be trapped with one of the greatest groups of people I know. The entire experience has reshaped how I view my life and the fragility of life in general. I have learned much about LOVE and its expression when guided by WILL. So grab a cup of your favorite beverage and sit down a spell, I have a tale I want to share. I'm going to warn you, you will feel emotions, have thoughts provoked, and quite possibly learn something.

ANCESTRAL BLUES

In the heart of the Mississippi Delta in a little town called Indianola, in 1925, a boy by the name of Riley B. King was born. This is very relevant to my tale, but we will get back to that in a moment, first let us talk about the South. The Mississippi Delta like most of the South was once ruled by three things, King Cotton, free labor, and Rivers. All three of these play into my personal history as well. Cotton is still important and grown with free or practically free labor. Then it was slaves, now it's prisoners. In Texas, theses prison farms are located along rivers, the same rivers used by plantations. Those prison farms are named after the plantations that once occupied the same land. I know because back in 1989 I lived there for 14 months.

Over the Memorial day weekend I attended the first regional Burn festival established outside of Burning Man; Flipside. I actually volunteer my time to help keep the festival going. This year I worked Pre/post which means I went out early to set up and stayed after to tear down. Only it didn't quite go down like that, more on that later, let's get back to Riley King. While I was at this event I took the opportunity to enter the Land of Fey. While there I took a stroll through the city of Pyropolis to see the theme camps that had sprung up like so many Mushrooms after the rain. As I passed one camp the music they were playing called to me like a siren. A guitar named Lucille, played by B.B. King, who was born, Riley King.

Transfixed I followed the sound and found a comfortable seat with a view of a pecan tree and the sound of the river in the background. As B.B. King played I heard the muddy bottoms of rivers, and cotton fields. I remembered my Cajun Grandmothers beer joint were the blues used to play on the jukebox, back when they still had 45's in them. Lucille's siren song took me back to East Texas, to my childhood. Then the Ancestors came, marching down the road, one by one to tell me something. Each had a different message, the overarching theme was, that if I wanted to be a worthy ancestor I must follow their examples. When I inquired as to the nature of this, the reply was simple, every ancestor literally dies carving out a path for the future. The very mud spoke to me.

WHERE EARTH AND WATER MIX

From the very start this years festival was very different than any other I had attended. ( I have been doing this for 11 years now.) It wasn't the presence of the rain or even the timing, it had rained the two previous years. No it was the volume. The absolute sheer amount of rain. We have been in a severe drought for about seven years now, so rain is appreciated, just not 10 years worth in one month.Even when we end a drought in Texas, we do it in a big way. And lest you think I'm pulling your leg check this out:

There are a few quite predictable things that happen when this much water falls in one place. The first thing is mud, even the limestone caliche of the Texas Hill Country turns to mud. Mud was everywhere, at some point one gives over to it like dust on the playa. We had mud on our boots, mud on our pants, in our tents, on our faces, probably trace amounts in our food.

My Wife the Muse, informs us during the ritual of smoke that mud is really heavy emotions. Her reasoning to which I defer, goes a bit like this; Water+ Earth = Mud. Whereas water = emotional being; and Earth= Physical Being; Mud = Bodily manifested emotion. There was a more social one-on-one atmosphere, we were forced together out of the rain. Huddled together we talked and discovered new things about one another and we bonded. The rain and mud brought us together and so emotions were released. It was beautiful. I believe many of us moved through some major blockages this year. Bodily emotion could also be trauma, and I definitely talked to a few folks who were working through theirs. The mud spoke to my heart.

THE HEART OF LOVE

 

As I navigated this wondrous landscape, something amazing happened; the scales fell off my heart. LOVE was everywhere, the grass and trees were expressions of it, other people embodied it, the volunteers sacrificed some time for it. Everything that was happening was a manifestation of love that some one felt like sharing. I brought my Spirits and the traveling shrines with me, out of love. Others shared food or companionship, performed art or played pranks, stayed whimsical and supportive, while swimming through the mud.

Blood and bone, heart and sinew, something primal emerged and we found ourselves. Washed clean by the rains and reborn in the mud. All became Other and embraced one another. Tendrils of love spectrally enveloping masses of souls. We became more fluid with our identities and the boundaries of imposed society. It's all an experiment. Stolen kisses, proffered kisses, kisses of souls, all floating in the wind, softly landing on willing recipients.Embracing Huggery ensued, and minds were freed. The wine flowed, as did the mead, and hedges were crossed by many. All of this was just foreplay, the main event loomed. We were Wizards of Odd and we had a wizard to burn.

Gathered together as in days of old we waited and watched as the effigy burned. Then we reveled. the celebrations lasted well until dawn. A New Day, shining forth with promise and hope. We had gathered in LOVE directed our WILL and succeeded at the task we spent so many months building. With the flames we released our sorrows, hopes, failures, triumphs, and wishes to fly upon the embers into the night. In that moment we were one. The time had come to part. The mud had spoken to us all.

GATHERING CLOUDS

 

Every year the exodus leaves one feeling drained and exhausted, yet with a new outlook on life. This year as we prepared to get everyone out, we were warned that another major downpour, like the one we had experienced the night before, was to be expected. We got soaked the night before, but our tents and shelters held strong. I and one of the other volunteers in our camp were staying for post, so we made sure everyone got on the road before the storm. He grew up in Oklahoma and I grew up on the Texas Coast, so we were familiar with storms. We watched the clouds gather and prepared for rain. We had no idea what was coming.

During the ensuing deluge, we gathered under my EZ-up and discussed our exit strategies. We were planning to pack up everything we didn't need after the rain. In the morning, my wife would take our kids home, and I would join them later, after I finished breaking down event infrastructure. So we sat down to wait for the storm to pass. After about twenty minutes the rain suddenly stopped and the air pressure dropped so fast I felt it in my ears. We checked the sky for the green clouds that always spell doom no matter the storm. Before we could figure out what was happening, 55 Mph winds hit us and tore down pop-ups and collapsed tents. My wife put our kids in the car and we tried to prop our tent back up. We had no idea what was coming.

The winds, as I mentioned were gusting at 55 Mph and tree limbs were coming down. My wife and I decided to give up on the tent and get in the car with our kids. Safety volunteers came and told us to come with them to a safer location.The rain that came with the winds dumped 4"-6" in 45 minutes and the river was rising. The land owner had conveyed to Safety HQ that we needed to be moving people to higher ground. We spent the next 18 hours in disaster mode. During all of this my wife ended up on the opposite side of the property from me and the kids. It was a very long night. We had no idea what was going on.

GREY CLOUDS AND SILVER LININGS

 

In the midst of crisis one gets to see the true nature of people. During this ordeal I watched many people offer emotional support to others, share food, tobacco, and conversation. My children shined like Rock Stars. My daughter was so confident of the volunteers that she slept while others fretted. My son jumped in and helped put together benches and reminded people to drink water and eat snacks. I am so very proud of both of them. I am also equally impressed by the safety volunteers. These people volunteered to see this event through to the end. Many needed sleep and were preparing to go home themselves, yet they stayed on and made sure everyone was safe. Our community trains to handle situations like this, but we always hope to not need those skills. The reason these wonderful souls do this is out of love for their community. The mud binds us.

As the waters rose and fell, I thought of flood myths and their meanings. The implicit life, death, and rebirth motif. The renewal of the land with nutrients from the river bottoms. There are many flood myths from around the world, but I always liked this one from the Chitimacha of Southern Louisiana;

Long ago, a great storm came. The people baked a great earthen pot, in which two people saved themselves. Since rattlesnakes were then the friends of man, two rattlesnakes were saved in the pot, too. The red-headed woodpecker clung to the sky, but the waters rose so high they wet and marked his tail. When the waters sank, the woodpecker was sent to find land, but he could find none. The dove was sent next and came back with a grain of sand. When this grain was placed on the water, it spread out and became dry land.

Mostly I think I like it because I know these people, Rattlesnake and Woodpecker. Rattlesnake has great significance, which I promise to share at a later date, and Woodpecker has always been there. I have a fascination for the Ivory Billed Woodpecker, the stuff of legends, supposedly so big it made folks cry, "Good gawd", or "Good Lord" thus its colloquial names. Like my namesake, the Sasquatch and the Ivory Billed Woodpecker are forest guardians. They both draw people into the forest and both are found in pristine old growth woodlands.

In the same swampy bottom-lands of my youth, the Ivory Billed Woodpecker disappeared only to be sporadically spotted, but never definitively. There are other tales, blue lights in the woods at night, the Creature of Boggy Creek, and how Crawdaddy created land. All there in the bayous and creeks of East Texas.The mud binds us.

All of Texas became flood-land that weekend, and the following days. As of this writing the death toll stands at 23 with several more still missing. The most recent body was found several hundred yards away from a friends house in San Marcos. This has affected everyone, 167 of our 254 counties suffered from these floods. Experts say this is a "flood of record" that only occurs about once every 200 years. People are still cleaning up, the debris is everywhere, and everywhere there is mud. The mud binds us.

WATERS OF LIFE

Just as the waters slowly rose, covered the land, slowly retreated and left everything transformed, so too did water reassert itself into my life. Throughout the entire process I felt a vast array of emotions and yet never became so overwhelmed that I broke down. I reached the breaking point several times and had to stop and take care of myself. Thanks to my firm grounding (pun intended) in Earth Work, I was able to be a centered and focused Dirt Sorcerer. Love permeated me and I gave over to the feeling, willingly. Terror and panic tried to overwhelm me, I let them have their say and then dismissed them. I sought knowledge and fact instead of rumor and fear. Comforting others comforted me, I am a big hugger. Water slowly permeated my flesh like the flood waters took over the pecan grove. We merged, my body and my emotional self; I am more integrated. I am the mud.

Some of my earliest memories are of mud, and swampy places. Bullfrog, turtle, crawdad, and catfish were my companions when I played in the creeks. I knew them all and more importantly they knew me. In the summer we all occupied the same space. That narrow margin between water and solid earth, whether on shore, or along the bottom, it was mud. There we came together and learned about each other. We were all mud.

As I reflect upon my journey, I feel I must thank several groups of souls for all they did. First a most heartfelt thank you to all the volunteers who dedicate their time and energy out of LOVE. You are all beautiful. Thanks to my Ancestors, who reminded me of where I came from and helped me appreciate where I AM. Thanks to Saint Cyprian and Santisima Muerte for prayers answered and grace given. Mi Patron y mi matrona, mi espíritu está en sus manos. Usted llena mi corazón de alegría entusiasta. I give thanks to the Creator, for all that we have accomplished we are still the same as that first DNA strand that you formed with lightning and our raw material. We are all mud.

 

Letting Go

Most of the people I know have had to let go of something dear to them this year. Deaths, divorces, and downsizing, whether by choice, illness or just time, have claimed much happiness and left a void in their wake. It is against this backdrop that I have decided to let go, more. Time is precious and the pursuit of stuff is a poor way to spend it, I want more LIFE and less stuff.

This not just a reaction to the losses I and many others have experienced , but rather an exploration of loss and surrender. For one to surrender to the forces around them and give up control is the essence of sacrifice as initiation. The Fool, and The Hanged Man; a leap of faith, a willing sacrifice, an initiation into a different state of being. Notice that I did not say "higher" state of being, such things are greatly overrated, enlightenment is not what most Americans think enlightenment is. I am looking to change my relationship to loss, suffering, and material possession, to reawaken my knowledge of the transitory, numinous nature of existence.

In my last post I made reference to Rhyd Wildermuth's post on Alchemical Capitalism, that article and this post by John Beckett, about the Commodification of Humanity, started mental workings. Then I read Decolonizing Ourselves So We Can Help Others, and remembered Paper Mage which I also recommended in my last post,and enter an Air of Inspiration from the East. Harvest and sacrifice are the same thing. Without sacrifice there is no harvest, and without a harvest there is no sacrifice. That being said, keep in mind that the harvest will never be what you expect. Taking my raw material to the cauldron of inspiration and applying flame something distinct begins to distill.

A small amount of passion goes a long way, and from that initial idea a plan has coalesced, it is time to Let Go. I will be releasing my hold on several material items from now until the Feast of the Ancestors, October 31st. This is sacrifice, ritual, reverence, and initiation all rolled into one. I am seeking to change my relationship to stuff, to embrace Immediacy, to see impermanence as it is; more stuff. So I will be giving away, sticks, stones, roots, bones, shells and feathers. A few books, and perhaps some hand drawn art here and there, will also find Their  way into the mix. I need to lighten my load for the next phase of my work. Water flows in and water flows out, stuff is the same, I'm not wholesale against it, I just need let it flow down the stream again.

Now the fun, interactive part; a veritable Carnival of Delights. Are you brave enough to accept gifts? Dare you receive something for nothing? Is not, Receiver of Generosity, one of your holy names? Can you surrender and accept what fate deals? Did you say yes to one or more of these questions? Then I have a proposition for you. If you said yes to all these questions, seek therapy, just kidding, go take a hike, you deserve a break. Now if you are willing, Friend me on facebook, or just send me a PM with your address and the note "I'm in." Or leave me a comment here. I will contact you with three questions, and then mail you a package based on your answers. Don't worry nothing ominous, just simple things, such as, animal, vegetable, mineral, or fungal. That sort of thing. I just love that Fungi is its own kingdom, now.

Awaiting your responses and then into the realm of Earth, where I manifest that which I have called forth. Letting go is the only way to appreciate what you have. LOVE.

Final Earthworks and the Opening of the Aethyr Gates

My elemental workings have come to an end. My elemental workings have just begun. As I finished my concentrated study of each of the elements, I did an Aethyr Working to bring it all together. This final act turned out to be the beginning of something new and wonderful, my Aethyr working opened a gate that will inform my work for many years to come. Twice before I arrived at a place in my work where I felt total cohesion between my vocation and my avocation. A place where my cosmology manifested itself around me daily, the Subgenii refer to this as the luck plane tilting in one's favor.I can believe that about the previous events but this is different, more like fortune. Previously I lost my vision and my voice due to turbulent episodes, both involving divorce and a loss of all my earthly possessions. One of the main differences this time is that I started with nothing and due to my partner, the most beautiful Goddess I know, I have learned to protect what is important and retain those parts of life that hold real value, this is the secret of wealth. I love her more than any other and there are many wrongs I must make right with her, but she is quite simply the most amazing person I have ever met, and have the utmost faith in her.

Revelations

Lucky man that I am, I am currently suffering from what the doctors believe may be a faulty gall bladder, whatever is wrong with me, I have been ill quite a bit this year. This illness however has kept me closer to the Other Side and this has improved the nature of my work greatly. When the gates opened, I had a vision of all that is to be. Humbled, I wrote down as much as I could, and drew what I saw. The first revelation was of my paten, this served as the door to the Aethyric Temple. I have included it here with a bit of artistic flair for dramatic effect.

The next revelation involved an explanation as to why the elementals manifested to me as totems and the importance of these relationships. They will serve as spirit guides much like familiars, but with more specific purposes and less personal interaction, as if they were zeitgeists or family spirits. I also met my allies old and new; amongst whom the following did appear; Lady of the Night, Wild One, Dirt Mama, Sky Daddy, Bird Lady, Bunny Man, Lord Stag and Lady Herb.

Soon I will fully open my Spirit Temple; the Grotto of Free Form Open Source Dirt Sorcery or a reasonable facsimile thereof; names aren't really important anymore, only results.

Corporate Cannibals, Tantric Pirates, and Shamanic Clowns

So it comes to pass that I shall lie fallow for a season, from Lammas to Samhain I shall not engage in large rites other lunar and solar cycle associated events. Some time after that I will begin working with planetary energies, and true to form I will be making up much of it as I go along. I have studied enough books in the last 30 years of my life that I can create a cut up ritual in my head and so I do. This is the essence of Free Form Open Sorcery. There is a caveat however, this is my path, go get your own. I do share tips and tricks in my Open Source lessons, but I am only trying to guide you towards doing it yourself, thus the non-specificity.

My path must always remain open ended, that is why I never give it all away. Once I develop a codified system that does anything other than brainwash you into thinking for yourself, then I have failed. I will not become the foodstuff of Corporate Cannibals. I would rather you become your own vision whether it's a Tantric Pirate, Shamanic Clown, or a Professor of Transcendentalism. The point is it is your path, and much like the Bardo or a video game, there are achievement levels that must be unlocked before proceeding to next part of your adventure. Almost always you will find that the key involves resolving personal issues, this is earthwork. There is no progress to Aethyric until the elemental issues are worked on.

Organic Psychedelic Animism

I have work to do, new tools and devices. There are new souls to meet, art rituals to construct, books to write. More important than all of that, I must maintain my relationships. Both my relationships with the living and with those souls on the Other Side. I trust my familiar to make the proper introductions when the time comes, and I make sure to bestow gifts upon my familiar when the time is right. I mentioned this mutual reciprocity before in a previous post. This a theme that will keep popping up over and over for me, as my partner has helped me realize I can be quite neglectful at times. This neglect only serves to harm me in the long run, as I damage mutually beneficial ties I isolate myself. This is part of one of the kleshas I must untie regularly, if not daily.

The Earth sings to me, the Waters rock me to sleep, the Fire keeps me warm and alive, the Air gives me dreams, but the Aethyr stirs my soul. So by the Powers Above and Below, I have gained gifts that I am both humbled and honored to receive, I resolve myself to Bhakti practice as sign and token of my appreciation and devotion. So Mote It Be.