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.

Where Wisdom Begins

           Tonight a monk in green robes stopped me on my way to the bar, asking if I had twenty minutes to hear a bit of what he knew concerning the upcoming apocalypse. Despite my intuition that there was an absolutely beautiful woman waiting for me at the bar, I thought this might be important, so I listened to his tales of a jealous God who was pretty angry about not being worshiped properly since all of the real high priests of Israel were murdered in 70 AD. He told me that we not only lost the knowledge of the true Sabbath (It’s very complicated to figure out when the actual Sabbath occurs; I think it involves the moon) but, due to a lot of poor translations into Greek and then English from the original Hebrew, we’ve not only been using inaccurate pagan names for almost everything, we’re also under the misconception that the messiah was a man, when, in fact, she was a woman.

           I told him that I accepted the possibility that all of this was true, but that what concerned me was that his God was planning on punishing the world for what seemed to be little more than a few clerical errors and the use of inaccurate titles. He explained that our God is a jealous God, and that the fear of the Lord is the beginning of Wisdom, but I told him that if I was created in the image of his God, with reason, compassion, and courage, then I simply could not accept any so-called “wisdom” that begins where all of these other very important qualities come to an end.

           I always find it sort of strange when I have to point out that it's simply unjust and insane to damn so many well intentioned people, many of whom are seeking a real connection to some sort of higher purpose and meaningfulness in their lives, to a lake of eternal fiery torment. He even took it further, saying I’ll be starved and tortured in the flesh before I’m thrown body and soul into the fire, but I told him I was clearly created to have to fight back against such insanity, regardless of whether or not I have any hope of winning; I was obviously created to burn. All things considered, he took my position fairly well (I feel that I was quite polite), although, by the end, I think the exchange made both of us a little sad.

           We spoke for almost a half an hour, and a lot more was said in our conversation than I’ll bore you with here. It seems to me like such debates are barely worth the consideration of my readers, but so many people seem willing to surrender their better judgment to a pile of death threats encountered on the pages of an old book, I hoped to come up with some mild remedy for this madness. So, at the end of my night, as I reflect on this man and his apocalyptic message, it saddens me more than anything else that his God and his devil were so indistinguishable, that is, apart from the rather ironic fact that Satan seems to be willing to do a lot more to ensure that we don’t serve the other side. I mean, if only his God had written His rules on the Moon, then, perhaps, I could see some justification in His anger over not being properly heeded, but I’m supposed to believe that He left the essential instructions for how He wanted to be worshiped in the care of a few Jews under Roman occupation whom He didn’t even see fit to preserve from complete annihilation? For this, I’m supposed to apologize and support the slaughter of billions of people, because, as my monk friend assured me, it’s all really about love?

           Hopefully, if any of these stories prove true, that Satan guy has an ace or two hidden up his sleeve. Fear of the Lord is obviously the death of reason and compassion.

Introduction to the Neo-Templar Order

          Many people will pick up this book hoping to glean some new insight into the great mystery of who the Knights Templar “really” were. I must confess; providing a definitive answer to such a question, assuming that such a thing is even possible, is not my primary concern. For you see, my driving interest is in something far more practical and relevant than that, seeing as how the world has already taken so many diverse approaches of it’s own to the question of what a Templar knight truly is. In this Magician’s Grimiore, I hope to put forward a clear enough description of some important occult sciences, and their associated magical practices, that each reader will then be able to establish what kind of Templar Knight he or she is going to become.

          The reason for this approach is simple: I have never encountered a single organization whose theoretical possibilities, however grand they may have been on paper, were not twisted, adulterated, and degraded by the bulk of its actual membership. We could, as so many others do, pretend that the “true” Templar Knights were, in fact, one way or another, but the truth is that their name has been appropriated by so many derivative interests throughout history, from the Freemasons, the Bavarian Illuminati, and the so-called Priory of Scion, to Utopian Pirates, Goddess worshipping Pagans, and even the infamous Third Riech, that attempting to establish who and what they “really” are is a rather naïve question, the answer to which would be academic at best. Any name or title that one might pluck from history is nothing more than what its adherents have made it; so to will the Templar Knight become, at least in part, what you have the capability to make into a reality. I am here simply to provide you with an exciting opportunity to choose what will be real, and, hopefully, to steer each one of you towards an outcome that’s actually worth realizing.

         Of course, there is something in a name, in the history attached to it, and the commonly accepted reality that countless others have actualized before any of us arrived here today to take up the Templar’s sword. Yet the basic mystery behind the Templars comes from the fact that they were violently accused of being something other than the noble Christian crusaders that most of the world, and even many of its own members, once believed them to be. Here we have the point of ambiguity upon which so many opponents of Catholicism built their own versions of these Holy Knights which the medieval world had come to so fear and respect. Some would argue that the charges of heresy that destroyed the Order were simply false, and yet the accusation itself created both a historical premise and an enduring mystery, which thrust the Templar Knights into an occult world of secret societies and esoteric knowledge that have defined them far more indelibly than anything that they may have done for the long dead travelers to the Holy Lands whom they once bravely protected (Although that historical fact remains relevant to our current endeavors as well. It is my sincere hope that you will come to understand that, in the psychic realm of our historical dream, nothing is ever truly lost; we simply take from it what we need in order to advance forward.)

         We return to the Templars again and again because of the compelling power of their heroic myth, which is far stronger, far more important, than the bulk of their historical reality, although I encourage you to research that as well. After all, history is not defined by the victor, as is often said, but by what is victorious within one’s own heart. That statement may not make much sense to those who’ve had their connections to the truth impaired by the same sort of oppressive powers who once tried to snuff out the original Knights Templar, but for those of you who have looked into the face of the enemy without slavishly capitulating to its attempts to turn you into one of its own, welcome to the Heroic and Just Order of the Neo-Templar Underground, where you will soon find that so much is true that nothing worth doing is impossible from here.

Apocalyptic Apologetics

        Every so often I can see the world as it truly is. This is not easy. It’s far easier to live in the world on its terms, or to succumb to the myth of a democratized truth that says everyone else must be right, that life is being lived exactly as it should be. However, every once in a while, the truth of our world becomes impossible to deny; most often I find this moment occurs at about quarter to two in the morning, when the bars begin to close and the paltry civilization we’ve built for ourselves begins to grind to a complete halt, leaving people like me with nothing left except for a few all night dinners, fast-food chains and, of course, Super Walmart.

          All further signs of life which dare to reach for anything more beyond this point must do so illegally, amid a handful of unlicensed after-hours clubs, all night drug dealers and a few lean prostitutes. This pale shadow of an underworld operates invisibly before a growing army of police officers, all hunting the night for anyone who dares to travel so far beyond the daily grind. Is this really life? Are we actually living like this on purpose?

          Of course it wasn’t always like this. At one time, there were massive bordellos that catered to every sensual pleasure life had to offer. There were magicians and acrobats shacked up in traveling circuses to which any of us could run; if not to them, then to the gypsies, or to the bandits who boldly haunted the hills where they trained to be more dangerous, to test their mettle, and ours as well. Secret societies still had secrets, not to mention a robust and active society in which these would be told, and people didn’t have a market on which to prostitute their strangest ideas as mere spectacles; they had to become them.

          No one knew, or could assume they knew, what everyone else thought about everything else, or how big it all really was, if you lined it up end to end. Today, of course, we all know better. Today, there’s no undiscovered people left out there to surprise us, and nothing new under the sun to surprise us with, or so we all seem to think.

          Last night someone asked me, if I’m so unhappy with the world, why don’t I just build something myself to help make it better? The unfortunate answer is that I have, more than once, but, when all is said and done, other people rarely ever show up to join in the fun, or else they don't stay for very long. Obviously I can free myself from the dull machine that demands that I work, consume, and stone myself into a more manageable state, where, occupied by unconsciousness, I might not notice the way things are; unfortunately, it appears that this machine is a far more comfortable place for other people than it is for me. I’ve met other revolutionaries with similar strange designs and we all seem to be of the same opinion: The spirits of men have been stolen, leaving coin slots where their hearts used to be.

          The only weapons I have left that are worth using are art and conspiracy; I rarely find anyone for which sex or violence are suitable, and even my words rarely find the right ears. I’ve built secret societies, hideaways, sacred spaces, and multiple mythologies to wear like costume jewelry and paper crowns, but something always seems to be missing; that something, if you don't mind me saying it, is you. You, who may have also come to that terrible moment of discontent, perhaps when you were very young, or at the edge of a night where the alcohol was too weak to subdue you, but, like so many others, have either grown old, sobered up, or simply chickened out. You, and so many others like you, are helping to build up the world that I’m trying endlessly to build over. Know that I will continue to build bigger, badder, ballsier things, every night, as I prowl the cracks of your world, looking for the breaking point, so be warned: My art is getting stranger everyday, and, someday, I promise, it will sniff you out wherever you may be hiding and devour you.

Know Thyself

           The Oracle of Delphi betrayed all of her prophetic secrets in just two simple words: Nosce temet (Know Thyself). As Heraclitus would later explain, ‘a man’s character is his fate,’ and therefore to truly know one’s self is, in many ways, to know one's future. Yet from whence does our “true” character spring? Is it programmed into us by impersonal outside forces, like our heritage, our environment, and possibly even planetary alignments and misalignments; or is there something else, something that exists within human consciousness that allows each one of us to exercise some sort of final choosing over all of the many options the world has laid out before us, and, when this power is at its zenith, to perhaps even invent new, previously unimagined, outcomes, formulated from some subtle space to which we’re all somehow connected?

          I've known this space and from that knowing I see a constant conflict between the freedom it offers and the mechanical certainties that bind the world outside of it to a predestined and foreseeable future. I’ve felt the power of those invisible influences as they push and pull towards a panoply of thoughts and words and deeds that at times fell somewhere outside of what I had decided was to be my “true” character, yet I’ll freely admit that such a personal truth as this is something that’s been completely self selected; I have chosen to recreate myself according to the limits of my own imagination, not on the grounds of some arbitrary rebellion, but rather based upon the belief that I can choose something that has not been offered to me as one of the available options of this particular time and place, and the only way that I can imagine to do such a thing is to tax the mysterious powers of pure invention. I understand that if any of us are to have any hope of inventing a new world, we must first attempt to re-invent ourselves.

          Although we all must start from somewhere far simpler than wherever we might end up, as we go along in our growth and development, we can make choices to either move with the flow of all these volitional forces that are constructing us, or, at any single moment, to turn against them. For many people, the option to oppose the course of their character’s construction never really arises, and for others it arises a bit too late or too dimly. However, for a very small few I believe that something which is essentially alien takes hold inside of them at a very young age, a part of the mind that remains detached from the ruthless process of enculturation and indoctrination that perfectly shapes the minds of the sleep waking masses that surround us; something that waits and observes in quiet disbelief of a finite world that’s being slowly reconstructed all around it. It waits, and it pushes back against this mundane world. This is the Djinn in the bottle; this is the so-called illusion of freewill and the voice of inspiration that calls to us from no real time and no real place. If God ever said, “Let there be light,” this is with whom It was speaking.

          They say that there are four archangels who supposedly guard the throne of God, although “from what” is a question that’s probably worth asking. I believe that they are not so much guarding it from our, or anything else’s, approach as they keeping it from making its escape into infinity, acting as the container in which the limitless can be captured and therein find its limits. Each archangel, after all, is a quarter of everything that can possibly exist in our creation, all forces and forms, outside of us, and inside of us as well. A working knowledge of these four elements, and the various qualities they engender, has provided me with the language I need to organize most of my worldly ambitions, and to consider the possibility of anything that might lie beyond. These angels are the four letters that spell the name of a God which would otherwise be unspeakable, and, in fact, unimaginable as well.

          A fortune teller recently told me that I had to seek balance and that my intuition would soon present me with advice that I had to be very careful not to miss. I seem to be meeting with strange people in my dreams these days, who give me riddles to solve and even straight forward tasks to carry out. This gives me hope, yet balanced as I already am on a cross of four cardinal directions, I’m becoming more and more aware of what God must feel like bound to that throne of fixed possibilities and mechanistic forces driving an old and worn out world of fabricated forms; eyes darting madly from side to side, rocking and wringing His "omnipotent" hands. We are all currently captives of the merely possible, but with your help, it is my sincerest hope that we can find many new ways to help make the most of it.

          I hope to find you, and whatever dreams you might have, at our next meeting of the Kaboominatti.

Words for Action: An Occult Blueprint

          Secrecy has always been, and still is, of utmost importance within certain infamous clandestine organizations; organizations which, for various reasons, will remain nameless, at least for the time being. Yet all such names, as you shall soon see, are largely unimportant, and, indeed, serve only to confuse those poor fools who lack more reliable referents by which to know the truth of things. Whether a group of people choose to call themselves the Knights Templar, the Roshaniya, the Brotherhood of the Serpent, or the League of Just Men, what matters, ultimately, are their true intentions, intentions which can only be rightly judged by whatever actions they actually carry out, regardless of whatever moniker these particular men and women may choose to gather under.

         True, historical precedence, and the publicly understood meaning of any titles taken, may create very specific effects on those who hear them, but such “truths” are superficial and indicate nothing of substance concerning what is really going on. Particularly if we are considering the reality of any supposed conspiracy among the so-called “elites,” its easy to see how a well chosen title would only serve to conceal the true intentions of a sufficiently clever group of conspirators and easily lead astray those foolish enough to listen only to what they can hear and to witness only what has been shown to them. Words lie, even on the lips of those with the very best of intentions, and, therefore, in the immortal words of Hassan i Sabbah, “there is no such thing as belief, only action.”

         Of course, here I am, slandering the very medium by with I am addressing each of you, barely recognizing that the act of speech itself is instrumental within almost any human undertaking, save perhaps in the heat of battle, or the bedroom, or wherever humans must toil in quiet concentration to complete any great and difficult labors. Yet even in such places as these, language has its purpose; to help initiate the action, to keep it on its proper course, and, if one is so inclined, to proclaim its triumphant completion. Ultimately however, I remain of the firm opinion that words without works are dead, or, at the very least, terribly boring and wasteful.

         Yet there is one Great Work that is too often undertaken almost entirely through the act of verbal communication, and this is the initiation of a mind lost within the darkness of ignorance into the light of some new understanding. Obviously, a few well chosen words can easily create both a new understanding and great inspiration, yet the danger of an education of mere words bereft of any action is that it can, and often does, create a poisonous and infantile illusion of actual progress. Never say what should be shown, and never accept the truth of any claims where the claimant offers no immediate possibility of hard evidence. Again, if you have only words with which to teach, words without any connection to the reality we currently inhabit, then you, my friend, have been deceived by shallow philosophistry.

         Having made my point, allow me to leave you with words that may help to guide and inform your own future actions, for there is a great and powerful secret concealed within the Tarot, one that is almost ridiculously obvious once revealed, and yet it remains easily hidden from most of the uninitiated. Within each of the four suits can be found part of a grand and well tested blueprint for vast occult conspiracies; I say "conspiracies" because its a blueprint by which almost anyone could profitably operate any sort of secret society that he or she might wish to build. Here I will outline the primary part of it by which anyone might forge his or her own new order, providing therein enough of the basic structure of this occult blueprint that anyone of sufficient intelligence will be able to easily extrapolate the rest of the plan.

         The suit of Fire lays out a clear policy by which any person, or persons, can maintain a Dominion (the 2 of wands) which, ultimately should be stabilized and protected by some degree of communal Virtue (the 3 of wands). The plan truly starts in the establishing and maintaining of an actual Foundation (the 4 of wands), which involves not merely an association of people, but, more importantly, a bedrock of active and compelling principles and ideals, not to mention meaningful places and objects of power, around which all of these people can be unified. Yet, just as one’s Dominion is bolstered by Virtue, so too is the Foundation brought to life by Strife (the 5 of wands) and, ultimately, sanctified by the Victory (the 6 of wands) which will hopefully follow. For obvious reasons, Victory is essential to the growth of any organization, as from Victory one gains Glory (the 7 or wands), which serves to expand the overall scope and reach of your endeavor. However, one must be careful not to rest on one’s laurels; here again, we see that Glory must be tempered by Swiftness (the 8 of wands), which is the means by which a disciplined few will continue to draw the sedentary masses, that now clamor around you in your Glory, into new and more challenging arenas of conflict. From all of this, the Foundation will eventually gain all of its Strength (the 9 of wands) and, ultimately, if it is not turned back or completely annihilated by a greater adversary, it too will grow into another familiar source of Oppression (the 10 of wands) like all of the other great monolithic institutions that rule this world.

         This is, however, only a small piece of the puzzle. Individuals within this hypothetical organization must be rewarded with both material wealth and emotional happiness; and they can be, via processes explained within the tarot suits of Earth and Water respectively; while the suit of Air outlines an ingenious and subtle campaign of psychological warfare to be waged against one’s enemies. Good Luck!

          If you have any questions about how to implement any of these plans (did I mention that all of this can also be paced and executed according an elegant astrological time table?), I would be happy to explain this woefully unappreciated occult system, and its basic Cabalistic structure, in greater detail elsewhere, but just remember: These are all merely words; that is, until someone, somewhere, is bold enough to take action.