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 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.