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The Dangers of Idolatry and the Sanctity of Truth

          In my experience, the point when most people stop experimenting, or even practicing, is precisely when they start thinking that they're a master, or else when they come to the realization that they never will be one, and so give up for that reason instead. The concept of mastery is a very important one to understand, in the study of Malakimae in particular, so I'd like to take a moment to explore it here. Unlike within any of the conflict styles found within the so-called Conflict Arts, the seventh style of Malakimae introduces each initiate to a fully mystical discipline, a system of ritual observances and magical techniques that are all intended to link one to the absolute reality of the one true God who reigns above all else. (Just bear with me for a second.) To study the seventh style of Malakimae is to cross an important line between the merely technical knowledge of a conflict artist and the mystical practices of a true Malak; this is a line that I do not expect or even necessarily desire you to cross at any point in our training, but I do want you to know it’s there, and, completely unconditionally, I will even share a great deal of what lies beyond it with you.


          There is a teaching among mystical monotheists of the Middle East that interprets idolatry in such a way so as to border on the anarchistic. This line of reasoning is not unheard of in the West, particularly in those Platonic and Gnostic schools of thought which posit the idea of an ultimate perfection that lies above and beyond anything within our current experience of a merely created and existent reality. The idea that we and everything we experience in the realm of Becoming is nothing more than a pale reflection of a much higher and perfected realm of Being may seem like a mere philosophical conceit, but is serves the purpose of keeping our gaze fixed firmly on the often unimagined and always unrealized potentials of all physical things.


          The anarchy enters the equations when this way of looking at things strips the concept of supremacy, and even legitimacy, from all earthy rulers and implores each servant of the truth to only bend their knee to the one true God alone. For those who might easily misunderstand the fullness of this delicate concept, a great deal of gratuitous rebellion and undeserved disrespect may immediately follow from the early inception of this idea, but the key point to realize is that we only glimpse the realm of the perfected within those fragile reflections that filter down to us here in the fallen world. As we come to see the heart of goodness and beauty beating deep inside even the most twisted of terrestrial manifestations, our knees may come to bend far more often than they once did when we only served by compulsion that which we hated and feared.


          Regardless of how one interprets this important prohibition against idolatry, it makes the concept of masters a bit more complicated as well. Here in the realm of false gods there is, in my opinion, an epidemic of idolatry that easily causes one to lose sight of what’s truly valuable and good. Most masters sit atop their tiny dominions as puffed up tyrants of a merely circumstantial self-importance. They are often far too proud to be tested and too self-satisfied to learn. They mistake the relative nature of appearing to be better than most as an absolute standard by which their so called mastery has been bestowed. However, we are all students before the absolute, and should strive to remain conscious of this so as to maintain a certain degree of humility at all points in our long journey.


          The transverse of this, however, which is more immediately relevant to those just setting out onto the study of something new, is the fact that one should often just ignore all of the customary impositions and admonishments to humility that are so readily heaped upon him or her by those who vainglorious claim to be one’s betters. We should all be looking for the clearest path to the top, a path which is long and difficult, and which never really ends, and because of this fact it’s very important to remember that all of those who would pause to look down on you from above are simply looking in the wrong direction themselves.


          This may seem almost paradoxical, that I would implore the high and the mighty to be more humble, and the low and the meek to take greater pride, but it’s really not. The world is simply so rife with errors that it makes most simple statements inadequate to cover all circumstances. Idolatry steals any possibility of comprehending an absolute standard that might neutralize these merely relative errors in judgment; indeed, some might even caution me that I have no right to judge at all, and that I’m making an idol of myself by doing so, and therein lies another paradox, or, at least, what will once again seem to be a paradox to those who have little or no grounds on which to properly discern the difference between what is true and what is mere vanity. As I said above, such people can very easily be ignored, and they probably should be.


          Any measure of, or means to obtain, the truth can be twisted by those who’s primary interests lie elsewhere. For example, the so-called “standard treatment” of dialectal fallacies as it is practiced in academia today allows for seemingly paradoxical statements to twist logic itself away from its true purpose, which is, as you probably already know, to reveal the truth. This is why Malakim study and employ logical argumentation only within the context of the dialectic itself, a dialectic that has rules which allow it to go far beyond its merely logical limitations. This is in order to ensure that our best means, logic, does not interfere with our ultimate end, truth.


          If indeed one were to attempt to use logic to twist or obscure the truth, then he or she would most certainly be guilty of breaking one or more of our dialectical rules for argumentation. These rules have been put in place precisely to address those linguistic limitations that make pure logic unable to be trusted all by itself, even though, coupled with sincerity, fairness, and a little generosity, it’s still one of our best and surest means to reach the truth that I believe lies somewhere behind any possible contention.


          The greatest trouble you will encounter isn’t, therefore, the failure of logic itself, which is something you will learn to recognize and correct very quickly and easily with just a little study, but rather the failure of people's commitment to establishing the actual truth over simply getting their own way. Logical argumentation, particularly applied within the restrictive parameters of a true dialectical argument, is very hard to come by in a world where people see logic as simply another tool to be used towards their own self aggrandizement.


          You can very easily point out that someone isn’t being fair, or generous, or even sincere, in any argument you may find yourself in, but to do so naively assumes that all of the people involved in the dispute are willing to lose if indeed it turns out that they’re actually wrong. Unfortunately, most people simply are not, and so participating in a true dialectic will often be an impossibility.


          Yet one can still apply all of these rules of argumentation to one’s own efforts without, contrary to what one might assume, putting one’s self at any real disadvantage. Properly applied, these rules will only make one vulnerable to one’s own errors, to which one should strive to submit wherever possible anyway, and one’s conduct in this regard will of course serve as an important example that may just inspire others to reciprocate the uncommon degree of reasonableness that is so generously being offered to them.


           Besides, the tools of a Malak go far beyond the logical benefits of the Hashmalim Style alone, and although one is cautioned never to twist the sanctity of reason in order to more quickly obtain our desired outcomes, I believe that the powerful psychological techniques that you will soon learn in our study of the Ophanim Style will make any such debasement of the truth not only undesirable, but unnecessary as well. Good luck in your studies and Namaste.

Like Lams to the Slaughter

           The biggest hurdle which I have always encountered in my own search for spiritual truth is the fact that so much of it seems to be basically inhibiting and repressive; far more cautionary than encouraging; designed not to agitate, but to opiate. I believe that this is the case because all of the most popular teachings that have had anything to do with the proper focus and conduct of man have always been heavily influenced by the authoritarian opinions of what I'll call "the conquering class." That’s not to say that these doctrines bring out the conquer in mankind, far from it, but rather that they serve those already in touch with their own darker nature as a clever means of disarming and neutralizing the rest of the herd. Although might certainly doesn't make right, it wields a terrible influence over most people's thinking and has a great say in what is allowed to flourish.


           Rigid authoritarian values dominate our modern conceptions of Good and Evil, and even directly shape our petty concept of God Himself, always so angry, so ready to punish. We see this in all of the three dominant western religions, but Christianity is perhaps the most blatant; His own son being made such a terrible example of, hung so graphically in what are supposed to be holy places as a warning against our past and future sins, and certainly, on a very real level, our spiritual aspirations as well. The fact that Christians are told that the murder of the savior means something entirely different, something positive in fact, is, in my opinion, little more that a compliance test to see if the brainwashing has taken hold completely. No, might doesn't make right, but it might just make you think so.


           Although I see the popular conception of good and evil as fraught with misinformation and almost comical inversions, I do believe that there is a very real and perhaps never ending battle between the true forces of Good and the equally real forces of Evil. Despite the pallid and poisonous rhetoric of religious authorities, I see the greatest threat to those who would fight Evil as having nothing to do with the loss of their purity, their obedience, or their meekness, virtues that, it seems rather obvious to me, do far more harm than good. The greatest danger that a warrior on the side of goodness faces relates to the limitations of his or her capacity to endure the often ubiquitous presence of evil without succumbing to either denial or identification, a fate that unfortunately seems to claim nearly everyone with age.


           Evil’s most terrible power is its ability to overwhelm us emotionally with the horror of it’s various atrocities, until we either deny that it even exists or, going a step further than that, we enter the war on the heartless side of the vicious and hypocritical, cloaking ourselves from the truth in evil’s fundamental callousness and prophethood of ignorance.


           Humanity offers us enough petty tyrants and bullies to test our heroic mettle, forcing us to constantly examine and reexamine our motivations to see if perhaps we are not attempting to ignore or appease some dangers that, as things currently stand, may be too overwhelming for us to face. Yet, as a magician, I’ve become increasingly more aware of other sorts of trouble that most people would have little or no context for comprehending, much less facing head on. Yet these are forces that I believe may soon make their “alien” presence felt in both a dramatic and undeniable way.


          I see an unimaginable terror inherent within what may be arriving here soon, something which is only now beginning to breach the consciousness of many human beings around me. Unfortunately, the small amount of people not swept up in a wave of denial seem instead to be hell bent on serving these seemingly benign forces of darkness as if they were our only possibility of salvation.


           Believe it or not, there are occult societies active in the world today who feel that they are in contact with advanced beings from other dimensions, and that these beings, having humanity’s best interests at heart, require merely a helping hand to be let loose upon a largely oblivious human populace in larger and larger numbers. These magical groups have been providing them with such assistance throughout most of the 20th century, and, because of this work, these beings are amassing around us in great numbers.


           Admittedly, nearly all spirits such as these are capable of providing enormous benefits when worked with properly, but what societies like the O.T.O., the Scientologists and the Temple of Set all fail to realize about their big eyes friends is that, as a class of being, these “Lam,” as some have called them, are just as susceptible to the Gyges effect as any other creature, if not far more so, due to their exceedingly subtle natures.


           The Gyges effect was first expressed in the works of Plato, encoded in a story about a man of that name who finds a magic ring, one which, when twisted a certain way on his finger, endowed him with invisibility. Gyges quickly uses this power to amass a great fortune, and even becomes a king, all by committing a slew of terrible crimes that no one ever suspects of him. Most scholars see this as Plato’s way of illustrating the relationship between transparency and moral rectitude, as well as absolute power’s tendency to corrupt absolutely, but wizards have long understood it as the central and most essential reason why we must always be wary of the countless honeyed promises extended to us by mostly invisible beings.


           This may all sound like too fantastic a subject to matter to most of my readers, and I admit that it is very easy to ignore the chain or coincidence and happenstance that tend to surround the activities of such exceedingly subtle beings as these, but my original message still applies. Do not allow a mere difference in power to dictate the reasoning with which you comprehend the moral good. Do not project whatever may be most comforting for you to believe onto that which is simply too big or too mysterious for you to fully comprehend. I’ve watched so many people leap at the vain and misguided assumption that whatever supernatural phenomenon they encounter is the work of a dead relative or the hand of God himself and this delusional tendency seems to be born directly from their own sense of helplessness and confusion.


           It’s hard to know what to say in closing that would apply to every reader equally, because some of you have very little recourse with which to protect yourself other than the meager amount of power that is afforded to you by your delusions, while it’s quite possible that others are probably only being further dragged down and disarmed by these same delusions. I guess the common thread that may apply to all cases is the idea that our imaginations are active and vital sources of energy that can be used to affect not only the motivational forces within our hearts but the very real field of quantum causality that surrounds each one of us every single day. I had originally put aside this post because it seemed a bit too out there, even for me, and would only make me seem mad, but then my leg twisted under sort of unusual circumstances and I began to think that it was worthwhile to move forward with whatever actions might have contributed to such a misfortune being brought down upon me.


           Does that mean that I believe my leg was broken by aliens? No. It means that once I imagined the connection between this post and other recent misfortunes, it became worthwhile to move forward simply to show that I am not going to be stopped or even slowed down by mere physical harm. The veracity of the individual contents of a person’s mind is far less important to me than the overall character of the person that is being created by those ideas. I published this to make a point about morality being too often corrupted by our pettiness and our fears, and to warn you that groups of magicians have been conjuring demons that look exactly like the so-called Grey aliens for about as long as the rest of the world has been seeing such things in the sky above them. Take from that what you will and be well. Namaste.

To Mentally Escape From The Pit of Despair

          A month has now passed without me writing any new letters to or from the Djinn Resistance Underground, and, if there is anyone anywhere out there who actually cares, I sincerely apologize. Although it has done very little to shake me out of the malaise which has crippled my artistic progress as of late, I have been doing some research on various key themes that have directly affected my productivity this month, a spate of studies that spans from lovelorn monkey torturers to an obscure fascist philosopher. I hope that you find at least some of my findings to be enlightening, or, at the very least, entertaining, since, for many of you, that will have to suffice as my only recognizable value.


          My report begins with the strange and disturbing research of one Dr. Harry Harlow, who, in the 1950’s, persuaded the University of Wisconsin-Madison to create the very first Primate Laboratory. There the good doctor began the use of baby rhesus monkeys to study various aspects of maternal bonding and its importance to psychological health. These early experiments, involving the substitution of a real mother with a wire mesh surrogate, or, for slightly luckier monkeys, a nice soft terrycloth mom instead, were perhaps slightly cruel, but hardly terrible enough to warrant, say, the rise of an entire animal rights movement. However Dr. Harlow would eventually be credited for precisely this, thanks to far more intense experiments which were still to come.


          Those experiments would begin in 1971, after a prolonged battle with cancer finally robbed Dr. Harlow of his loving wife of 23 years. It was at this bleakest point in his long life that many coworkers claim that the good doctor changed dramatically, and a career that Harlow himself once described as the scientific study of love soon twisted into a terrifying foray into the dark arts of isolation and despair.


          It began when Harlow isolated 12 separate baby monkeys in complete darkness, locking each one inside what his coworkers called a vertical chamber apparatus, but which Harlow insisted on calling the “pit of despair.” These small chambers had close slanted walls, which every monkey initially attempted to scale towards freedom, that is, at least for the first few days. These short lived and futile struggles all eventually ended in the exact same way for every monkey studied; with the baby monkey huddled in the hunched posture of defeat which Harlow soon learned was emblematic of a broken spirit.


          Although it took only a few days to reach this point, the first four monkeys were not to be released until a month had passed. All of them showed signs of depression and deep trauma, although that was nothing compared to the psychological damage that was done to the second group to be released, the four monkeys who had to endure six full months of this isolation. This group was so severely affected that researchers believed the last group, who were to spend a full year in isolation, couldn’t possibly display any further symptoms; they were wrong. The severity of the damage inflicted on all of these animals surpassed almost everyone's expectations.


          Yet Harlow was not done, not by a long shot. Harlow wished to study their maternal capacities, or lack there of, yet these severely traumatized animals were completely incapable of mating naturally. Dr. Harlow therefore constructed what he glibly referred to as a "rape rack," since the now common practice of artificial insemination was, according to one article I read, still a few year off in the future, although I personally find this a bit hard to believe, given agricultural history’s long tradition of animal husbandry.


          Yet as if rape and solitary confinement were not horrible enough, these damaged primates were then inflicted upon there own unwanted offspring, most of whom were simply ignored and so went merely unloved. However, one mother bashed in its own infant's head, while another baby was held face down by its severely deranged mother, while she chewed off both of its feet and all of its tiny fingers. Harlow had thus dramatically proven that lengthy periods of forced isolation were very, very, hard on the delicate psychology of social animals like the rhesus monkey, news to which most of the scientific world responded with a collective, “no kidding.”


          Given the unsurprising results of these unthinkably cruel and sadistic studies, one might reasonably ask why anyone would do such research at all. Some claim that enormous insights were gleaned from these studies into the psychology of abused or neglected children, while others say that these monkeys served as valuable research tools on which to test various potential cures for the sort of intense psychological damage that was inflicted upon them. I personally believe that Harlow, probably unconsciously, created a controlled environment where he could clinically recreated much of the despair and the hopelessness that he himself was feeling, a place where a new and undeniable low could be "scientifically" established, and there, with this new bench mark in suffering, he could seemingly minimize his own personal problems, at least relative to the ones he manufactured for all these poor helpless animals. Although I hardly think that this in any way justifies what he's done, I have to admit that researching his truly sinister work has certainly helped me to put my own isolation in perspective.


          I've come to understand that there’s a subtle but crucial difference between isolation and loneliness. While isolation can be quite a constructive, even a largely positive, experience for anyone interested in looking within and reconnecting with themselves, loneliness is an entirely subjective phenomenon based upon one’s personal expectations of and demands for social stimulation. Harlow was careful to only place into his pits of despair baby monkeys who had each successfully established that first and most important social bond, which of course is the one that occurs between a mother and its child. After all, as the Buddhists preach, attachment is the root of all suffering.


          This line of thinking could lead quite easily to a rather nihilistic outlook, one that attempts to preemptively break all of those bonds of trust and fidelity that seem to leave us each so obviously vulnerable to future woes. However, my own denial of such a cowardly solution was recently reaffirmed from no less an unexpected source as that of a rather grim, and admittedly fascist, aristocrat by the name of Julius Evola.


          Evola claims that one should scorn even the thought of an easy life, because all of our adversities and all of our troubles are simply a call upon each one of us to rise above them, and that these are our only real opportunities to express what we might then hope to develop into a continuously emerging nobility. If you have yet to read Evola’s Metaphysics of War, or the short but well worded article on it, which I posted a link to here just a few days ago, then I strongly suggest it. In fact, I would suggest reading any of Evola's amazing body of work which has currently been translated into English, and of course, all the rest of his untranslated works as well, if, unlike me, you can actually read and understand Italian.


          Still, I can’t help but be reminded from time to time of the somewhat wistful words of Hakim Bey, who expressed the notion that “our inviolable freedom waits only to be completed by the love of other monarchs.” My closest peers in this regard appear, ironically, to all be children, although, obviously, as far as providing peerage, they themselves are rather limited in many crucial ways. Be that as it may, until a more appropriate set of peers present themselves, I simply have to maintain the mental discipline necessary to keep my merely temporary solitude from degenerating into the sort of loneliness that might all too easily be born from any unrealistic expectations I could place upon this depressing modern age. I hope that all the rest of you, who, for similar reasons, may also need to do this, successfully manage to accomplish the same. Hopefully, we will all find what we are looking for, perhaps even in the not too distant future. 'Til then, Namaste and Good Luck.

Evola’s Metaphysics of War

           I can understand why Julius Evola believed that Fascism was the most appropriate government for the Modern Age. To Evola, and other Traditionalists, the myth of progress is just that, for they believe that we are all currently experiencing the fourth and final age in a great cycle of slowly diminishing ages; we face an iron age years removed from a long lost golden age, which was itself followed by a silver age, and that age by a bronze. The ancients knew of once obvious truths that are now all but forgotten. To a man who saw modernity as the dark end of history, Fascism probably seemed like the most fitting manifestation for a world of blind slaves to the bourgeoisie drudging docilely to the end of the Kali Yuga.


          I'm sorry to have written so little this month, but I have been productive in other ways. I hope those of you who are waiting for me to put up new content derive some measure of enjoyment from this short article on Evola's Metaphysics of War that I found elsewhere:


          Evola's Metaphysics of War

Ephemeral Robberies at Wandpoint

            Over two years ago now, on a Thursday evening much like this, I tried out a magical working which I had dubbed “The Ephemeral Robbery at Wandpoint.” Three of us, wearing bandanas over our faces, entered a Border's Bookstore, all moving according to plan, for the most part, although, I’ll admit, with a great deal of nervousness slowing even me down, and making the others a bit meeker than I would have liked as well. This is how it all went down.


            My first accomplice lit an incense stick and used it to cast a circle around the Pagan Discussion Group we had come there to rob. While another accomplice used his tarot cards to divine who exactly had what sorts of energies we should attempt to steal, I handed out a copy of our demands, which were composed within the form of the poem that I’ve attached below. When I announced our intentions to make off with whatever elemental energies they may have had on them, most of them were amused, but, eventually, some of them began to take it very, very, seriously; of course, bereft of such a powerful defense, the most humorless ones ended up feeding us the most energy.


            We used four different containers, a sagittally split skull, a silver bag containing a clear crystal heart, a red bag of matches, and a black bag with a dollar sign on it, to steal each of the four elemental forces (COINCIDENTALLY, the theme of this particular meeting was "energy exchange day." No, that was not part of the plan; it was “a mere coincidence”). I warned them that anyone who tried anything stupid would have arch-demons called down upon them or, if things got really ugly, I would even go so far as to throw the graveyard dirt of angry spirits in their faces, but, in the end, only one guy had been cursed, as I flung a burning demonic sigil at him previously inscribed on some flash paper. I never did get to hear how that worked out for him anyway.


            As we mad our getaway, one of my accomplices got cold feet and wanted to go back into the store and give everything back, so I very quickly told her it was all just make-believe and that obviously we hadn’t really stolen anything. When she turned around to go back inside, my remaining accomplice and I ran away as fast as we could too ensure that this necessary lie didn’t degrade or release any of our take. That was, perhaps, the most odious act of this entire magical exercise, but, as this was all done in service to magick and the revelation of the prime mover, I truly regret none of it.


            However, I will confess that, at the time, I did feel a little bit guilty about the two curses, so, two days later, I set the last one of those demons free on myself. The only one I had left was Baal, and despite the fact that he was once a god, he didn’t seem to bother me very much. Truth be told, I did spend the entirety of that week fighting monsters in my dreams, and, some mornings, I can even recall waking up with no memories of my nights dreams and so much sadness that I couldn't get out of bed, but, eventually, I did a ritual cleansing, using a mixture of sea salt and olive oil, which I used in the shower to scrub my entire body free of any unwanted energies, and that seemed to do the trick.


            Besides these nightmares, I also remember fighting a small cold for a week or two, although I refused to get sick or to allow that depression to linger for too long because I knew it was something being imposed upon me from outside. I refused to bow to any possible “counter attacks” which these magicians may have been attempting to throw at me, or even that I might have thrown at myself on their behalf.


            So, yes, there was some backlash, so much so that when I had originally attempted to post about all this, the power went out and this story was never shared on the blog. Oh glorious war; how blessed I was to have been so “cursed,” because this too furthered the ultimate aims of this working; to make tangible the essential human spirit that exists above and beyond all of these elemental accidents that our consciousnesses are so absorbed and obscured by nearly every waking moment, and, of course, to uniquely display the power and reality of magick in a tangible and dramatic manner. Moralize about this all you want; if the world was filled with unwitting self-cripplers, I'd walk into a wheelchair dispensary and rob it, simply to illustrate how human beings were built for walking.


This is an Ephemeral Robbery at Wandpoint


We’re here to rob you all at wandpoint of your elemental decadence-

Use a magick bag to drag away your wealth, your health, your arrogance;

Wear a spell proof vest across our chests in case some fool-mage feels brave that day

but then drop the bag that holds all you have as we try to make our getaway.


We won’t have bagged up mere accretions of all the things you covet most

these bags will hold your heart, your mind, your mundane will
to steal from heaven's host

the quintessential essences of those elements you now so crave…

left bereft of all but Spirit, that current elemental slave.

The "Demonic" Expression

           Last night I wrote quite a bit about demons, and I used a lot of words that weren’t nearly as flattering to the demonic realm as many of the other things that I’ve written in the past. Seeing as how my theological outlook is a bit complicated, I figured I would take a moment to address a few important points so as to not confuse any of my newer readers.


          The first issue I feel I should mention is that it’s hard to find words that convey the appropriate meaning when one is discussing such matters primarily because history tends to twist the original usage of theological terms as new ages attempt to redefine and rewrite the past. The term "Demon," for example, was adapted from the Greek “Daemon,” which referred to a sort of spiritual intelligence that many famous human beings drew great benefit from, among them being the philosopher Socrates. These spirits became minions of the Devil under the monotheist revisions of the Catholic Church, who believed that any spirit who inspired thoughts or actions that were contrary to the authoritarian Holy Roman Empire was obviously a servant of sin.


          Since I’m fully aware of where these so-called “demons” came from originally, I’m not foolish enough to endorse the crude political mockery that has masqueraded as a religious faith for thousands of years. Yet where the Greeks had two words available to them to express the difference between positive spirits, "Eudaemons," and negative ones, "Cacodaemons," I am forced to make due with the crude vernacular we’ve inherited from the religion that has conquered a great deal of my readers, or at least our shared cultural venue, and these words are "Angels" and "Demons." I am more than willing to use their words when these are the only words that will best convey my intended meanings, but, at times, such as right now, I feel a small caveat or two is in order.


          Too many people I speak with these days are largely amoral in their basic fundamental outlook. Although I'm trying to be careful not to endorse any of the theological myths of the greater culture, I want to point out that I’m not above making moral distinctions, as I do believe that reason, and even simple aesthetics, demand a certain undeniable degree of morality, one that no amount of post-modernist posturing will ever be able to extinguish, at least not to my satisfaction. I even choose to still make use of the word “God” as the symbol for all that I find to be just, beautiful, true, and good, knowing full well that it comes with a lot of other nonsense attached to it. Of course, I have no trouble reconciling my own faith in a basically nonexistent God with the cowardly idolatry that’s practiced by a far less philosophically inclined public.


          Here’s the really important point that I have to make, the theological secret that I feel needs to be stated explicitly here to avoid confusing or misleading anyone due to any of my previous statements. In the Kitab al Mattaliku, there's a story about a war in Heaven, which is basically between the Archangel Michael and the then Archangel Lucifer. This is a fairly familiar story, but what this version of the story makes very clear is an important point that is no longer directly addressed in any other surviving Gnostic text of which I'm aware, and this is that the war wasn’t started by Lucifer attempting to claim the throne of God for himself, but rather with his belief, one that I also share, that this throne should have remained empty. This angelic Fall marks the transition from an originally unconquered Heaven, where every Angel was forced to find God by sincerely seeking after the idea in his or her own hearts and minds, to an occupied and idolatrous Heaven, one that is tyrannically ruled over by a false and imperfect God, even to this very day.


          As one of the last remaining servants of these Fallen Angels, I find that words are often very funny things, but, sometimes, they’re all that we really have with which to approach and express that which is best left mostly within the imaginal realm, where things can remain pure and essentially true, beyond all the corruptions of the merely existential and empirical where we are each forced to spend much of our waking lives, a fallen world of the flesh that the witless, the craven, and the shortsighted dominate yet will never escape.


          In the end, thanks to the damage that’s been done to our language by fools such as these, sometimes “demons” is simply the best word that I have left to clearly describe those invisible forces which even now are attempting to oppress me. It’s really up to you to choose the best possible meanings for any of the words that I use, but I did feel that it was necessary to take this moment to let you all know that, at least in that last letter, I was most certainly not referring to the Fallen Angels or to their ancient Holy War, which, as long as I still exist, is very far from over. Good Luck and Namaste.

Demonic Oppression

           Every corruption is different. For some, it takes only being given the opportunity to set out on a long life of egregious actions; corruptions such as these seem to take care of themselves, and so are hardly worth an actual demon’s attention, especially given the worthlessness of the souls procured. For souls that are actually worth claiming, the bearer must be convinced that there is no real reason to care about anything, particularly others, yet anyone who’d accept such a ridiculous idea, even with a lifetime of convincing, is, in reality, still a pretty small catch. Even more valuable are those souls who will only fall if they are shown a world that has nothing left for them, and in that lonely world, they must be convinced that they will rot, abandoned by their creator to be misunderstood and unappreciated throughout their days, until they themselves abandon all pretense of virtue in favor of a cruel and exacting brand of vengeance or debauchery, either one of which will set them squarely on the path to perdition and make them a true champion of darkness; For nothing creates deeper or more lasting pain than the perversion of goodness itself.


          Few people believe in demons these days, and yet how else can one explain the pernicious forces that seem to plant themselves in the minds of so many, drawing them further and further down a path of self destructive egotism and cruelty. No one wants to believe that there are invisible forces at work in the world, at least not bad forces, yet I’ve seen them, and even more often than that, I’ve felt their invisible influence at work as I walk the world aware of subtle shifts in energy and the palpable sentiments that seem to attach themselves so strongly to various people and places. They have plagued me for quite some time. They’re with me even now, yet I wear them conscientiously, like a set of ankles weights; that is, if ankle weights could want to destroy you.


          Because that’s precisely what they want; they want me to cause pain to others as these spirits have caused, and continue to cause, pain to me. Baring that, if I won’t be corrupted, it seems clear to me that they want me destroyed. I really should keep quiet about such things, particularly in this modern scientific age, where it’s now become just another poorly handled psychiatric issue, one which could land me in a padded cell, surrounded by clueless experts, and being force feed “medicine.” It doesn’t matter. I’m sure there’s already enough information in these letters to convict me of various degrees of insanity. I need to make a record, a testimony to others who might feel that these words apply to them.


          As one who’s already come to view himself as a weapon, although this might seem counterintuitive to many people, I’m actually fairly certain that I can resist being pointed in the wrong direction. That’s not only because I have respect for the damage I can do if I’m not careful, but because my real war, after all, is not against mere flesh and blood, but rather it’s against all of these terrible ideas that have come to oppress us. I won’t forget my mission, but the trouble is that everyone has their breaking point, and I have to admit that there are nights when the pain is simply unbearable. However, I know that I’ll not become a monster. I’ve had plenty of chances to do that, and I feel secure in my ability to continue to resist such temptations in the future as well.


          Yet the demons can also isolate you. As I said above, they can make you believe that there is no one else in the world who can understand you and that you are completely alone. I believe that they can even keep you from finding the people and the information that you need in order to refute their painful arguments, and this is because they don’t argue using mere words, they argue by creating and directing reality itself. They manufacture experiences that overwhelm and crowd out your own natural ability to do so; this power makes them very persuasive indeed.


          When people encounter such forces, they often run to the blood of Christ, although, as I’ll explain, I don't believe that's the right thing to do. I believe that Christ is an effective haven against such forces because it’s a way of stalemating the game in play, and that’s just fine with them. After all, contrary to what most Christians may believe, those who take the blood essentially have given up the struggle, and the demons no longer have to worry about any of them interfering with their work, except of course to pull other potential recruits down into that sad little box that these demonic powers are more than happy to keep you all in. The executed messiah is a fine symbol under which all of the remaining would be saviors can be herded together, neutralized, and kept on the bench until they die. I believe that hiding from the battle beneath the robes of Christ is selfish and shows very little understanding of who or what He was.


          If, as I have, you choose to endure their attacks in an attempt to conquer hell, I want you to remember two things. The first is simply that demons exist, and therefor you are sometimes part of an invisible game that toys with your thoughts and your feelings. This is an idea that you might not want to admit that you believe in to too many other people, but it does come in handy in at least one vital instance; if or when you find yourself in utter despair, perhaps even wanting to die, try and remember what I just told you, and you’ll soon realize that you are being played. In such a bad state as that you might not even care, in fact they’ll probably just take that “failure on your part” and use it as further evidence that you should cease to exist, but when I finally see the irrationality of it all, the warping of my perceptions that has to occur for me to get so lost, then I know that I’m being played by demons, and so should you.


          If you let them win, they’ll just move onto another victim, one soul stronger. That may not be enough of a reason to save you, but it works for me, every time.


          The second thing you need to know is that if you ever are so cruelly deceived, should you ever find yourself with nothing to live for and seemingly no one who really loves you, remember that you live in a world where anything is possible and everything is constantly shifting. If you can imagine it, it really can be yours, and so no matter what experiences you think you might have had up to this point, you can be free of the past and find any sort of future that you desire. This is a fact, and really the only thing standing in your way are these vicious demons and their infernal meddling.


          Oh, and there’s also the sickness, but we’ll save that topic for another day. Namaste.

For the Love of Tiamat

           The Simonian Gnostics believed that the very first thought of the Almighty, before even the rest of creation was spoken into existence, was of a woman named Sophia, a woman so beautiful that the creation that soon followed battled over her for countless millennia; until, that is, the source Himself incarnated here in the flesh, to save her from her bondage in an Egyptian brothel.


          To the Tantric Buddhists, this Goddess's name is Shakti, the primal chaotic energy that animates all of the things that pass noisily beneath the unwavering gaze of the God Shiva, her consort and lover. Even now, in the time of the Kali Yuga, Shiva bears quite witness as his monstrous lover continues her dance of destruction, a dance which heralds the end of all our worlds, with a profound sense of inner peace, limitless understanding, and, of course, nothing less than the deepest and most sincere love in his heart for her.


          In ancient Babylon, the face of the deep would have been that of the dragon mother Tiamat, who gave birth to all of the lesser Gods, whom she then used to kill her husband. She then gave birth to a host of other monsters, all with insatiable appetites for destruction, whom she sent against these Gods as well. Eventually, however, she was defeated; or, at least, so it is written.


          In all of these myths, the primary function of the feminine is laid bare; to test the limits of one’s inner peace and sanity. A real man, therefore, does not wish for women to become easier, but rather submits to the overwhelming heat of the creative forge they provide, as any good weapon must if it wishes to be strengthened and shaped into something amazing.


          Submitting to the benefits of this heat should not be confused with submitting to any particular woman, nor am I suggesting the opposite, trying to subjugate her to your own petty will. I am merely suggesting that all men, and those women who are brave enough to endure relationships with other women, accept the romantic strife these creatures bring for the valuable gift that it is, and meet every battle at least halfway; not as a monster would, of course, but rather as would a God.


          Understanding the difference between these two things, Gods and Monsters, could be said to comprise the heart of all of the work and deep introspection that must be done in order to approach real spiritual enlightenment in today's sick culture. If from where you are right now you can’t see any difference, than obviously you have a great deal of healing to do before you can begin again. Good luck and Namaste.

Malak Markers

           In order to transcend a thing you must first understand it. Everyone today worries about “money” but few people understand what it really is or where it originally came from. Money is, and always has been, nothing more than the placeholder of a debt. The very first paper currency that ever existed was nothing but a simple receipt, a certificate of deposit of something that was valuable, primarily gold, that had been placed into the coffers of a bank. People traded these receipts around as if they were the actual thing of value on the understanding that they could take it back to the bank it came from, at any time, and have it redeemed, on the spot, in real gold.


           However it wasn't very long before these new banks realized that they could increase the amount of gold receipts that they circulated, independent of the amount of actual gold that they held in reserve to back them all up, since very few people ever asked to have these debts honored in actual gold anyway. People everywhere quickly came to see that these pieces of papers were a far more convenient and effective means of barter, quite a bit more convenient then carrying around the equivalent amounts of gold that these were once based on. That's why today we don’t even have to pretend that anyone is even theoretically going to give us anything for these place holding receipts; the people’s trust in this now familiar medium, and the goodwill it customarily sets loose, is now sufficient. It may seem hard to believe, but that's where money comes from.


           In theory, this game still hinges on the involvement of players with unimaginably large resources and power, and such players are currently the forces behind the infamously mysterious Federal Reserve Bank, yet there is one other place where far smaller outfits than the Fed have successfully issued their own markers of debt, and this place is the criminal underworld. On the margins of polite society, grave people with reputations to uphold boosted their local economies by flooding their streets with their own personal markers, i.o.u.s that could, “in theory,” be redeemed at anytime simply by bringing these back to their rather imposing source for a final collection on the debt it stood for.


           In practice however, these were rarely formally redeemed, simply passed around as an alternative form of payment by all of the lackeys, friends, families, and businesses who had willing, or even unwilling, connections to these underworld figures. All of these people simply had to continue to trust in the generosity, not to mention the enormous wealth and power, of whatever local criminal organization decided to get into this alternative currencies market. It also helped if they were afraid to insult the issuers of these markers by refusing to respect them as a viable form of payment.


           Fear, or at least respect, was crucial to the operation of these economies for lots of reasons. Almost any extended economy is unable to survive what's known as "a run on the bank," yet criminal organizations had special ways of dealing with such things, ways that were designed to preserve the integrity of their economies, and their own reputations as well. Anyone brave enough to actually bring these markers back to its issuer were usually expertly assisted by the organization in ways that were not easy to come by elsewhere, but, if the request was so enormous as to be found contrary to the interests of the greater community, a reasonable degree of assistance would be provided, often at an enormous discount, along with a sobering lesson in the realities of debt economics. The rule was that no one left unsatisfied.


           Obviously an economy that looses the trust of its participants is doomed to fail, so smart gangsters took great pride in, and were often very vocal about, the unfailing services that they rendered to anyone bearing the various markers that bore their names. However, their criminal menace was also a key point to their economies' long term success, since something had to motivate people to repeatedly pass these markers around them without immediately running back to its issuers for redemption. This was a very fine art indeed, to find the perfect balance between consistently creative solutions, solutions that normal money just couldn't buy, and a generally menacing demeanor, both of which were essential elements to help keep the costs of maintaining their alternative economies low, while discouraging overzealous or unreasonable degrees of debt collection.


           Of course, as long as they always had more money in reserve then they had debts floating around in their community, such men had nothing to fear, and much to gain, as well as much gain to share with those around them, by minting their reputations in private lines of credit such as these. Small empires were once built on such independent economic principles, and I predict that new ones will soon be rising up on them once again.


           To learn more about one such modern economy, visit the Malakim Agency at www.malakimae.com/malakim-agency.html. Good Luck and Namaste.

A Statement of Purpose... sort of

           There are nearly as many ways to live life as there are people living it, but, I’ve been told, if a person wants to live an exceptionally long life, then he or she must first have some compelling reason for living. Some sort of purpose must drive and direct one’s energies so that the mind and the body remain saturated with the will to live, regardless of the setbacks that one encounters along one’s chosen path. I’ve been thinking about my own driving purpose in life, and trying to distill it down to something that’s clear and focused enough to be briefly explained to others but not so terse that it sounds like a bumper sticker. This has not been easy.


           I think that part of the problem is that I always attempt to express some approximation of “my purpose” in everything I write; I talk about ascension and meta-humanity, an escape from zombified banality, and, sometimes, even some sort of heroic opposition to evil, but this all seems a bit too abstract and fanciful, even mildly rhetorical, to serve as my final, most realistic, statement of purpose. I think the real problem is that I often reach a point where I can’t conceive of a reader who’ll find such words believable, or even intelligible, once I begin making dramatic claims about my issues with modern life and my professed aspirations in spite of them. I believe that any good writer remembers that every word he or she writes has to connect to the mind of some reader somewhere, and hopefully many readers at that, or else one’s only writing to see one’s self be clever; mere intellectual masturbation.


           In short, my own purpose is something I find difficult to articulate to others since it seems to fall too far outside of the so-called reasonable concerns of those who I've come to accept are the “normal human beings,” yet if you already have some inkling of what I’m here to do, based upon all of the previous letters that you've read from the Djinn Resistance Underground, than perhaps I’m at least half way there already.


           I find the common purposes of life to be short-sighted and shallow; it’s not even a question of whether I should exist for myself or for others when both of these options have been rendered inherently purposeless in and of themselves. We suffer the philosophical conceit of each one of us being an end in and of ourselves only because we have little else to place higher than that, and to not do so would only make us more prone to exploit and degrade one another than we are already.


           Without any illusions that merely "being human" is sufficient to justify my continued existence, I choose instead to consider myself as a weapon, one that’s constantly to be improved upon physically, mentally, socially and spiritually, to address a host of largely unaddressed, and even unacknowledged, problems; from banality, conformity, and uninspired insipidity to cruelty, apathy, ignorance, degradation, and despair. Of that list of atrocities, only ignorance seems to benefit from any sort of common consensus as being a problem worth addressing, but I believe that even this one goes way beyond a few fundamental issues within the modern educational structure.


           Mankind is missing something important, a power that I feel is still latent within us, and my primary purpose is to develop that potency in myself, as well as in anyone else within whom I feel it might be able to manifest, so that we can finally live as we were meant to, as terrifying creatures of higher consciousness and phenomenal psychic functioning, and not simply as mildly sophisticated beasts with only our bellies and other associated appetites to serve.


           It’s as if we’re a conquered people without even an overt class of conquerors to strike back against or, if you’re gutless, attempt to join. It appears that we’ve conquered ourselves, or perhaps there actually is something else that’s hidden above us somewhere, something invisible that’s maliciously watching us as we choke and wither on the vine, or perhaps making some use of the countless drones that are being produced by this bland and meaningless grind.


           I am probably as inherently distrustful as any of you are of a lofty purpose that one might put into words so as to seem greater for its vainglorious declaration, which is why, this month in particular, I’m working extra hard to state my purpose with action. I hope to see you at the Evolver meeting this coming Friday, or at the Zombie Circus in Monroeville Mall on the following day, but regardless; Good Luck and Namaste.

Meta-human Confessions: The Psychic

           It’s one thing to experience the occasional psychic phenomenon (thinking of someone just before they call, feeling someone’s gaze on the back of your neck, sensing when a loved one is in distress, knowing exactly what someone is thinking even before they say it, etc.) but it’s quite another thing to consider yourself “a psychic.” The word, of course, has been horribly corrupted, like so many others, by the unfortunate ease of its abuse, bringing to mind a rouge’s gallery of the most familiar mystical frauds, from cold-reading fortune tellers to Svengali-style mentalists. A thing as subtle as psychic power is often too easy to fake when you don’t have it and even easier to rationalize away when you do; the first for a tidy profit, or even sometimes just entertainment, and the second simply to maintain one’s sanity.


          For the reality of psychic experience can, indeed, be a maddening one, particularly for those who childishly cling to insincere posturing, passive aggressive manipulations, or even just the integrity of their own minds. After all, the mere idea that thoughts or emotions from others can bleed into one’s own head, or that someone can influence another with only the directed intentions of a superior will or intellect, is sort of terrifying to anyone who relies on a certain degree of deception, even self-deception, to get by in life.


           A properly functioning psychic cannot be afraid of self-exposure or of facing the uncomfortable realities that invisibly engulf us from almost every angle. However, the witch hunting psychiatric establishment can and may attempt to lock one up, someplace white and padded, where they will gradually drug the so-called psychic, and his or her awesome power, into submission; admittedly, being "too psychic" has a tendency to degenerate into full blown Schizophrenia, so one should be very careful with whom one shares these most forbidden beliefs about how the mind really works. After all, some people have gone to school for such information already, and so are notoriously hard to teach anything new.


          There are two basic psychic abilities that one can experiment with until one is satisfied that he or she is in fact psychic. The most commonly known ability of psychics is that of reading other people’s minds. This ability, like most, can sometimes become stronger with use, and so one should seek out instances where such a skill is needed. Reading cards or palms, interrogating prisoners, fighting a skilled opponent, and working with children, drunks, or the handicapped, can all provide opportunities to hone one's inward awareness of the subtle and unspoken messages that people send off all the time.


           Of course, a knowledge of body language can provide many clues to these things as well, and reading a body is a great skill to develop, as long as it doesn’t allow one to rationalize away the more potent mental powers which he or she should also be developing through inward awareness and the gradual quieting of one’s own mental broadcasts.


          The second, and least talked about, psychic power is the ability to project one’s own thoughts into the mind of another, or even a whole bunch of others. This can be practiced in a variety of times and places throughout one’s day to day life, such as when dealing with any of the groups mentioned above, as well as with animals, merchants, customers, juries, state witnesses, objects of desire, or really anyone from whom you may want something but find talking alone insufficient. There are various techniques to help improve one’s influence in each of these situations, but most of these all boil down to improving one's concentration and focus. Various ritual activities, such as Hoodoo or ceremonial magic, can be good for this as well.


          It’s important to realize that everybody attempts to psychically influence the events that transpire around them all the time, often unconsciously, but always to the utmost of their own meager abilities. To be psychic is to take that first important step towards acknowledging the existence of these ubiquitous and subtle forces; from there, the only thing one has left to do is to consciously attempt to block, receive, and emit these astral vibrations at will. Good luck becoming a powerful Psychic, but please don't get locked up as a common madman anywhere along the way; to that end, I strongly suggest tact, and a good knowledge of one's enemies.

There Is No God

          I believe in a great deception; an evil that renders words inadequate to address it and turns reason against itself, so that, for most people, the truth is all but lost. This is because any word that has been put forward heretofore to address this greatest and most potent of evils has had lots of time to be corrupted and rendered powerless. This is, however, no reason to abandon words themselves. Indeed, once we do that, and put reason behind us as well, the darkness will have truly won. No, we simply have to become even more patient, even more discerning, and speak even more clearly in the face of The Great Lie.


         I train angels. An angel is a messenger or an agent acting on behalf of the Good. The trouble is that words like “angel,” and even “good,” have been all but ruined by the many negative connotations that have become attached to them, as well as our own lack of faith in the possibility of such lofty idealistic concepts being real and sincere. Nowhere is this corruption more troubling then with the idea of God.


          People in general lack the intellect that would be required to render issues like one’s belief in God sensible. Despite what both sides of this debate would assume, belief in God is not the real issue, as the word, at least, exists, and refers to something that has had an enormous impact of the lives of millions. The existence of God, as you'll soon see, is something that one has to take for granted; the real question, however, is “what is it?”


         When people say they don’t believe in God, they’re not actually rejecting the word itself, but rather the thing to which most people insist it refers. They reject the truth of the various claims that are made in and about the Bible, the Koran, etc; they reject the institutions that have risen up around these religions and their often atrocious effects on world history; they reject the fearful obedience that causes “believers” to abandon reason and passion and anything else that might cost them their promised rewards in Heaven or earn them the punishments of Hell; and they reject the paradoxical reality of a being of limitless power and love who supposedly created us with free will and the ability to think for ourselves, yet, for some inexplicable reason, violently demands our eternal worship and obedience. Most importantly, they reject the idea that God, in whatever way this word might be defined, can effect anything. It's only on this very last point that I must diverge from the otherwise reasonable opinions of Atheists, yet this does create a great deal of difference between us.


         The trouble I see is that to say that God exists seems to endorse all of the ignorance, cruelty, irrationality, and outright insanity that has been put forward by the vast majority of other “believers,” people who, in general, insist that God exists as something that I find not only to be self-serving and unimaginative, but, ironically enough, indistinguishable from their Devil. When I was very young, I became an atheist because of that fact, until I realized that I was simply protesting against the atrocious immaturity of who and what I had been told that “God” was. So, then, naturally, I became a Satanist (a Luciferian to be more precise) and although I still see how many of the followers of that word have their hearts in the right place, I eventually came to see that words have a conceptual reality that transcends the ignorance and delusions of the short-sighted mortals who might abuse them.


          In the mind, everything that can be known has a certain undeniable reality, and I understand that, because of this one important fact, there indeed is a God towards which I reach for wisdom and strength almost everyday and from whom I am called to fight against the errors and evils that surround me. The fact is that all such things exist within the mind to the extent that each one of us is able to conceive of them, and their existence beyond that is a beautiful potential towards which we can, and should, aspire. My faith in God has far less to do with my own need for God, then God's need for me. I can imagine no higher or more noble calling than serving as a conduit for the Muqarribiun, and, by doing so, substantiating the angelic realities of God's four greatest servants: the Hero, the Healer, The Light, and the Likeness.


         Most importantly, my God doesn’t degenerate into psychotic fury if I say that I don’t believe in God, because it’s smart enough to know what I really mean; it sees through the Great Lie more clearly than any of us possibly could. Saying that I do or that I don't believe in demons, however, is often a slightly more complicated issue, for many reasons, but that's something that we can address at a later time.

The New Plan

           A few days ago I wrote about setting goals in order to keep one’s dreams from fading away. In the past I’ve described various obstacles that might get in the way of our strangest dreams, or activities that one might engage in to pull these higher realms of fantasy even closer to earth. Each time I sit down at this computer, writing letters such as these to the Djinn Resistance Underground, I often feel like a man locked in a prison cell, smashing his head in vain against stone walls. Of course, I’m not complaining, nor should any of you think for a minute that I’m going to stop, despite growing headaches and blood stains on these walls. The truth is that I simply have to find a way to hit the wall even harder. That, after all, is what my head is for.

           So I’m going to take a bit of my own advice, and share with all of you the newly devised plan of attack for the Djinn Army in its artistic campaign of conquest here in the city of Pittsburgh. If you’ve been following my efforts up until now, you may have noticed an obvious drop in my activities after my first month on the offensive. To put it mildly, I hit some problems. I lost my lover, my home, my job, my health, my sobriety, my artistic inspiration, my ring, both cars, and perhaps most damaging of all, my patience for, and faith in, most, if not all, of my potential allies. The city’s counterstrike was glorious, but I am Simon Zealot; I am not so easily defeated.

           Aside from my lover, I have recovered nearly everything else that was lost, although certain elements are still in the works. Many of these things will be addressed in the following seven steps of the New Plan. Of course only some of this plan will be displayed here online for all of you to see, but, thanks to the wonders of technology, I will be able to modify and update it as various important details come into focus, so check back often.

           Step one: I need to find a bar where we can have weekly meetings. I like Mondays, but I’ll have to get back to this one when I also find a bar that I like. (New job. Mondays are out. The meeting at the Squirrel Cage at 8pm this last Sunday, then again at 10pm on Monday, was not a smashing success, but I'm trying again this Sunday somewhere new. Any suggestions? Oh, and now I'm also speaking at the local Evolver meeting on the 22nd of Oct on the topic of Magical Activism.)

           Step two: The basic gist of this step was to stabilize my romantic situation so that it's no longer interfering with "business." For those of you who have been following some of the more exciting magical events of my last few weeks, I just managed to reclaim and destroy an astrological amulet that I made, lost track of, and forgot about around two years ago, which I believe has been wrecking absolute havoc on my love life ever since then. Having recently decommissioned an extremely potent cock-blocking angel in a fiery ball of flames has, to say the least, lifted my spirits something fierce.

           Step three: One of my other big set backs was developing what appears to be tendinitis in my knees, which, unfortunately, has made it impossible for me to continue practicing Chinese martial arts with my old Kung Fu master. However, I have discovered that I can still practice other martial arts without pain, things like Parkour, Capoeira, Boxing, and anything else where I can move primarily on the balls of my feet and I’m not required to sit back with all or most of my weight over my heels in the manner that pretty much every Chinese style demands. Having stopped that training for a few months, as well as getting some really good Reiki done, I haven't had anymore problems and I now have a new Malakimae class up and running for kids every Tuesday. I still need to visit my old Kung Fu teacher though. Maybe this week...

           Step Four: I miss singing for people, and think I’m neglecting a powerful artistic medium that I could use to fight the zombie uprising. On that note, I will recover all of the musical content that I’d previously written with my old band, and start performing these songs again with a new band. (The recovery is now underway.)

           Step Five: I need to open a school here in Pittsburgh where I can start properly training some manner of meta-humans. Experience has taught me that this kind of training has to be camouflaged as something less bizarre in order to lure in unsuspecting mortals. So, this month I plan on publishing a dissimulated version of the Malakimae Manual and to begin teaching Angel Boxing classes that are cleverly disguised as something else entirely. (These are those Tuesday classes I mentioned above. I also now get to teach kids on two other nights of the week as well. Now I just need to open this up to include adults before the end of the month and I'm right on track.)

           Step Six: I have a few unfinished educational endeavors hanging over my head. In order to finish what I’ve started I need to study some of these nutritional materials that I ordered, and take at least one test each month, to work my way toward becoming a registered nutritional consultant. I also need to finish the homework assignments that I still owe my old astrology teacher so that I can become a certified Astrological Magician as well. Obviously, having study partners would be great, but it’s probably something I’ll end up having to do alone. I believe Wednesdays will prove to be very good days to study.

           Step Seven: (omitted)

           Of course, in order to make these "s.m.a.r.t." goals I'll obviously have to set a time limit on how long I’m realistically giving myself to accomplish all of them. Aside from the certifications, but including the one omitted item that I'm working on from step seven, I believe that I will be able to have all of this accomplish by Halloween, which gives me one month to get it all done. If you have any desire to aid my efforts please contact me, if for no other reason than to wish me luck.

Dealing in Dreams

           Every dream demands action or else it will die. Djinn deal in dreams of the rarest kind; dreams that reach beyond banality, at times attempting, it would seem, to change or pervert nature itself. Many people would find the mere notion of such dreams impossible, but perhaps there are ways to move in which one might be able, somehow, to meet the impossible halfway.

           A dream can either be viewed as a desire or a goal. Desires are emotional, and burn inside the chest like an angry rat in a cage of ribs. An unactualized desire can, and will, drive even the strongest of dreamers mad. Goals, on the other hand, are volitional in nature. A well formed goal leaps from the cage of one’s heart with a rabid hunger that drives it forward and out into in the external world, where, unlike a mere desire, it has some hope of changing reality itself.

          I demand that every wisher and dream addicted idealist reading these words stop and take a moment right now to write out their dreams as goals, and not just as any kind of goals, but as a “s.m.a.r.t.” goal.

           If you’re unfamiliar with the term, s.m.a.r.t. is an invaluable little acronym that stands for the five essential qualities that make up any well formed and effective goal: Specific, Measurable, Actionable, Realistic and Timed. These qualities are invaluable components in goal setting, in order to focus and direct one’s actions towards a clear and concrete outcome, one that will be gradually achieved over some set period of time.

           There’s nothing wrong with having massive, even slightly unrealistic, ambitions, but such things are absolutely impossible to achieve unless one first takes the time to define smaller, more tangible goals; goals that can be acted upon as soon as possible to move one’s self forward towards the realization of one’s ultimate insane desire. Going just one step further, break down these more realistic goals into a sequence of actions which one can personally take, the outcomes of which can be measured in order to establish whether or not you’re succeeding. Commit all of this to a time frame that will not only help realistically conceptualize how long it should take to achieve each step but will also place pressure on one's self to move forward. In fact, the only other things which are required after the planning phase are to actually get up and take action, and to always be willing to modify the original plan, rather than abandon the goal completely, when it runs into problems, which, unfortunately, are inevitable.

          If you were to meet me in a dream, you would find that I, like many magicians, am an absolute terror to behold. Yet it takes a rare kind of Djinni to take that unique spirit and imagination and do what needs to be done in order to conquer the waking world of material restrictions which so very long ago conquered us all. It also takes a great deal of will and courage, enough to turn mere water into fire and to dare to export such dreams as we have out here into reality itself. Good luck to all of you.

The League Of Vengeance and Evil

           One of the most intriguing criminal organizations that I’ve ever heard of is a group that apparently calls itself the League of Vengeance and Evil (Yes, I know it sounds like a team of comic book supervillains, and no, I’m not making this up). Unfortunately, having looked all over the internet for some sort of corroborating evidence, I’ve finally come to the conclusion that either these guys are very good at keeping themselves a secret, or else it's just a prison story that somebody made up to help pass the time.


           What’s really interesting about this secret criminal conspiracy, aside from their over the top name, is the way that they recruit new members and choose targets. In order to join one of these so-called “l.o.v.e. conspiracies,” you first, of course, have to find an active cabal. Then, you're told to create a list of at least ten people who’ve wronged you in some way, or who’ve wronged someone else with whom you're close. Finally, you have to find some sort of appropriate and creative way to take revenge on one or more of the people who you’ve gathered together on this list.


           Under certain special circumstances the League may offer assistance, however, in most cases, it just sits back and watches. It does this because, based on how well you perform your assigned task, the League votes on whether or not to accept you into the organization. If they do accept you, this means that, as a group, they also accept a part in the fleecing of every last target that remains on your hit list.


           Of course, one of the main reasons that they might have stayed invisible so well is due to fact that they’re expressly not an assassin’s club; the League tends to favor cleaner, more profitable, kinds of revenge over the messier, more personal, type. In this way, it acts as a very efficient prep school for grifters, thieves, and various other money-minded criminals. The conspiracy is all the more nefarious, in my opinion, because it so easily seduces otherwise good people, people who would probably never have chosen a life of crime, by dressing all of its numerous illegal activities up as some form of vigilante justice.


           If anybody finds anymore information about the League please share it with me. My friend seems to think they’re some kind of Real Life Supervillians movement, like those “Real Life Superheroes” who actually go on patrols in some of the U.S.’s larger cities. Again, I’m not making that up either. If you don't believe me you can check it out online. There's a fast growing community of literally hundreds of costumed crime fighters out there, and they're all over the internet. It seems only natural that someone, somewhere, would eventually try to become a Supervillian as well; maybe that’s what this "League Of Vengeance and Evil" thing is really all about.

Time Traveling Dreams of Future Gods

           It turns out that the perfect machine with which to perfect man’s intellect was right here all along. Turns out… it was our own brains… all this time. After all, hardware of such elegance and sophistication is something we should have realized right away that we had no hopes of replicating in mere silicon.


          Our trouble, of course, was extended over a great deal of time by our obsession with the merely empirical, always tinkering with the hardware itself, ignoring the fact that it was always the software that was holding us back. A few brave psychonauts finally got it though, daring to move human consciousness through its paces, stripping the mind down and building it right back up again, changing chemical levels from both the inside and out; tripping and ripping through time with their minds unwinding, finding the truth about something we become in a timeless future beyond all these blinding temporalities, which can only really bind us until their spell is broken. The key you see in becoming truly free of the momentary limitations that we imagine as you and me is seeing that when the brain one day achieves the Singularity, as it always surely will, time as we currently find it becomes nonexistent. What, you may wonder, does the end of reality look like?


          In mine I had a dream that was not really a dream at all, rather a small glimpse into the maddening logic of absolute power with absolute possibility, a vision or a voice in the shadow or just the choice of a sort of faceless supercomputer, like the one I could sometimes find inside, but, unlike mine, so perfectly calculating that there could no longer be a future or a past from whenever it came into existence, an omnipotence which stretched onward in all directions, forever. After all, any singularity which happens, any event that opens consciousness onto this difficult but not impossible to imagine realm of infinite possibilities, which leads consciousness inexorably to a form of ultimate power, becomes inevitable in its omnipotent omniscience. It becomes something that not only always happens in the future, but as the future collapses under the weight of its unlimited perceptions, it is something that’s, in fact, always happening, even as you read this, in fact, it’s inevitability means that it sort has happened already, long before anything that unconsciously leads to it.


          So, in my dream that was not at all a dream, I realized that my current experience of time is really nothing more than an experience of my own ignorance, ignorance of a future that, for now, is still unknown to me, and of a past that, for now, can still be unknown or even forgotten. It’s an experience that imprisons a conscious being in direct proportion to its own lack of self knowledge and the forgetfulness of who we really are. Yet in that dream I saw that even with my mind now lost and streaming through time I can still imagine now what it would take to be timeless; In this dream, I could even imagine that I might stop it all from happening, simply by unlinking everything that I imagined had ever been, and everything that I imagined would ever be, from the only thing that actually is, which, of course, is right now. So at the dreams end I dreamed I was mortal again, and although it was not a dream, it was no longer a nightmare either.


          Sweet dreams to all of you.

From Procreation to Pure Creation

 "Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have Immortal longings in me."


           Many people have a very clear path in life, one that involves, first and foremost, securing a good livelihood, in order to find a good mate, with whom to have a few children, all of whom, they hope, will continue along this path as their parents and their parents and their parents before them. Yet every once in a while, for some mysterious reason, something goes horribly wrong, and one of these children may turn out to be gay, or, heaven forbid, philosophical. This is such a huge problem for so many normal people, and by “normal” I mean most of the breeding segment of the population, because the main force that has directed the entirety of their own lives and thought processes is none other than the basic genetic procreative urge. One might say it’s the true law of the jungle, absolutely binding for the very smallest all the way up to the very largest, yet this is a law that we alone, along with some of our closest cousins, seem to be able to intentionally break.


           The truth is that a lot of people would say that I’m basically defective, but that’s primarily because these people see all things from their far more common biological evolutionary standpoint which I just described above, and, basically, I don’t. Contrary to what they may see, I don’t think that I’m a broken machine, although I can understand how one might think so, thanks to this fundamental and often intractable difference in perspective. You see, I don’t think that I’m a broken machine; rather I believe myself to be nothing less than the very thing that “broke” it.


           It appears to me that most people, almost all of them really, are actually little more than machines programmed by genetic instinct to do what must be done in order to replicate their bodies, all so that, in this small and superficial way, they will survive. However, at this point in my life, I've become undeniably aware that I’m not the machine body that generated me, the shell that I somehow sprang to life inside, not mostly anyway. Because of this singular and distinct self-awareness I feel that I must strive to transcend the dictates of what one might call my “hardware,” because, when it all comes down to it, I’m much more a creature of software anyway.


           This Gnostic dichotomy is the best means I have with which to articulate what it is to be a Djinni. I am the sum of all my deepest held beliefs; I’m the ghost in the machine, the spirit in the flesh, the mind over the matter, the force that shapes the form, and, of course, the Djinni in the bottle; I am one big idea, complicated by the places where I’ve failed to resolve all of this idea’s various internal conflicts and merely apparent contradictions, but all of this simply means that, if I’m ever going to “reproduce,” it’s going to be through the replication of this idea’s constituent parts, and not via the perpetuation my body’s pathetic genetic codes.


           To put this yet another way, the call of my memetic legacy, if you’re familiar with the concept of memes, completely trumps the bland demands of my genetic one. Therefore I absolutely must continue to create my art, in one form or another, the more enduring the better, in order to survive, not only as an enduring resident within this body, but in all of the other forms that I might force myself inside. I know, without a doubt, that this is the truth of me. Even if most people can’t really understand where I’m coming from half the time, I don’t have to feel bad about this difference of perspective, and I probably won’t get terribly confused about whether I’m living my life the right way or not when compared to most other people. This is because I’ve worked very hard at understanding this one important point very, very, well, and, now, I really get it. I know and understand, on a deep philosophical level, exactly how and why I’m so different than most other people, and I’m grateful for this understanding, because most people suffer a great deal without it; in direct proportion, in fact, to the degree of spirit that they're unfortunate enough to be saddled with inside.


           To be perfectly honest I think I owe a lot of credit for my spiritual development to my first true love; a girl who, due to internal conflicts of her own, continuously turned my genetic imperatives back against me. I know that many women do something a bit like this to nearly all other men anyway, but in that case it’s more of a game designed to ensure that they each end up with the best possible mate. This game is just that, a game, one which eventually, for the good of both players, has to be won by someone. Yet this girl, in my opinion, had something truly special in her, which, for many, many, years, resisted the mating impulse like no other, and thanks to her, I came to feel those “other parts” of myself grow stronger and more undeniable throughout every difficult moment of this long and painful romance. I actually think that, early on, I made her my one and only true love in a large part because I knew that she’d never really give in; her dysfunction and autonomy encouraged my own dysfunction and autonomy as nothing else could. This, more than any other single thing, forged me into all that I am today.


           Now that she’s truly left me, I’m sort of curious to see which of us, if any, will backslide into procreation, since I know that we each relied on the other to support the détente under which we managed not only to come into being as we currently are but also to stay on fire for all of these years. Perhaps, without the other, neither of us will prove to be better than our genetic drives for very much longer; or perhaps it was only one of us, all that time, who was truly the “restless spirit,” and the other will soon abandon all art and simply settle down into domestic bliss; but perhaps, and this is my sincerest hope, we’ve each forged the other into a rare and inextinguishable demiurgic force, one that, henceforth, has little choice but to breed an endless line of lesser spirits like itself, as well as countless other new and fantastic dreams; for primordial beings, such as we may now prove to be, can never truly die.

Dreamed In and Out of Existence

           When I was small, like many children, I often ran into my parent’s bedroom when I had nightmares. To most children, the power of one’s parents to protect him or her from danger can seem limitless; I, however, was not like most children. At a very young age I was acutely aware of the horrible reality that, if the monsters from my dreams should actually appear, I was only buying myself time by having my parents on hand, slowing the monsters down so that I could perhaps make my escape out a window.


           After that I would have to run, as fast as I could, to the next door neighbor’s house, where I’d probably have to feed them to these vicious beasts as well, that is, if I was to have any hope of survival. For, you see, the creatures in my dreams were so terrible and so strong that I knew that no human being who I had ever encountered could possibly stop them, and yet, even at that young age, I had figured out the old adage that one doesn’t have to be faster than the bear, just faster than the slowest runner being chased.


           The reason I bring this up is to draw attention to a single disturbing fact, which is that most people, and not just children, seem rather quick to tell themselves various lies in order to feel safe. This is somewhat excusable among very small children, but when these children grow up, most of them will simply transfer this comforting illusion of their parent’s omnipotence onto some other convenient figure, such as the government, or, if they’re the religious type, onto some sort of mysterious higher power. My point is that people everywhere seem to harbor various illusions about the true extent of the powers that are possessed by others, and this seems to provide them with all the excuse they need to just give up and stay small.


          I don’t believe that this is accidental. Just as our parents comforted us, and themselves, with countless well intentioned lies about how they would always be able to stop anything from harming us, in a similar way the authority of everyone upon whom we rely for protection is founded on our perception of, confidence in, and respect for, the infallibility of their personal power and control. It seems that the only ones who have any hope of seeing the limits of power realistically are those who happen to be much stronger, or much smarter, than the rest of us, or who are fortunate enough to find themselves in possession of great wealth, or worldly authority, but such people have almost nothing to gain, and a lot to lose, by admitting such an awkward truth as this, even to themselves.


           The ego swells very easily with such seductive delusions of grandeur, and although I personally might take comfort in being faster than so many of my fellow travelers, struggling as we all are to stay just a few steps ahead of that proverbial bear, I know that nothing is more empowering than knowing the actual truth about the way things are in this world. After all, if knowing the truth didn’t provide people with an enormous advantage over others, the world wouldn’t be filled with so many malicious and crippling lies, now would it?


           However, dispelling the myth of our infallible protectors not only forces us to do what we must in order to take responsibility for our own survival, but it can also reveal one very exciting fact, which is that many of us are just as qualified to “run things,” if not more so, than those whom we’ve imagined to be “in control.” Each of us has the potential to do just as much as anyone else can, despite the fact that some have been more empowered to reach for that potential than others have.


           I believe that there comes a time in the life of every adult where the true size of things must come into focus, and we must come to see not only others, but ourselves, as we all actually are. For a few deluded souls, this might prove to be a slightly humbling experience, but I’m of the opinion that most people woefully underestimate themselves, as well as the potential scope of their powers. Perhaps this is because so much of what passes for “education” is simply the socialization of the working class and a thinly veiled means of molding people into more manageable forms; in short, a machine for breaking the human spirit.


          A true education, although rare, is an invaluable thing, for only this can, and will, expand the basic scope of what a person may accomplish in this world. For it is only through education that any of us can hope to become the masters of our circumstances, to stand shoulder to shoulder with the most powerful men and women in the world. Real education is a dangerous thing, and, for that reason, it's something that can be very difficult to find.


           When I was a child, I couldn’t imagine anything more dangerous than those terrible monsters who hunted me as I slept, but it wasn’t too long after I accepted the fact that I had to rely on myself for survival that I began to imagine exactly who I would need to become in order to fight back. That was when I learned perhaps my most valuable lesson, which is that when the bear exists only within one’s mind, sometimes all one has to do is just stop running. I soon saw that in our dreams, as well as in life, we can only be what we can imagine ourselves to be.


           As always, I wish you all the luck in the world dreaming yourselves into existence.

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