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The Quantum Touchstone

           When my "in" at the Vatican passed away a few years ago, I was at least very fortunate to inherit quite a bit, both mundane and magical, and one of the most important magical artifacts that I have ever received was something called a "touchstone." Although I was told that it may be the only remaining one if it's kind, at first I didn't think it was anything important or even terribly useful (to be honest, I had initially thought it was just some sort of mood ring), but the truth is I simply didn't understand its true significance, something that I now understand can only happens after what amounts to a rather radical shift in paradigm for most people, at the very least for those of us who aren't quantum physicists.

          Simply put, the touchstone is a navigational tool that, at least initially, is absolutely necessary to help one maintain his or her bearings during inter-dimensional travel (which, I soon came to understand, is apparently something that we're all doing nearly all the time anyway, but, without a touchstone, we're simply forced to stumble along blindly and largely unaware of these rather significant shifts in our reality). We all know that highs and lows are common to every life; few of us ever realize, however, that we're actually floating somewhere between heaven and hell during all of these various trials and transformations, and leaving entire worlds behind us with each new day, indeed, each new moment.

          The artifact works rather simply, deceptively so in fact, with the color of the touchstone shifting subtly across an entire spectrum of visible light, from pitch black at the very lowest of dimensions on up through red to orange to yellow to green to blue to indigo to violet and finally, unto the infamous white light. These are more than just a reflection of some entirely subjective state of mind, although it can sometimes help those who are only just beginning to grasp the concept of inter-dimensional travel to oversimplify the working of a touchstone in this way, especially since different people can and will sometimes perceive the touchstone's current color very differently anyway. No, the truth is that these colors illustrate the very real yet otherwise inconspicuous levels of a multiverse through which we each as travelers are alternatively sinking or ascending, and, at the risk of possibly confusing things even further, these various dimensions not only seem to exist in parallel but are at times found to be interpenetrating and overlapping each other as well.

          It's also important to realize that that dimensional drifting can and does occur during any, even the very briefest, moment of unconsciousness, with sleep, of course, being the period when most of us seem to drift the farthest. This sort of "travel" is so subtle that it's otherwise almost certainly imperceptible to both the hapless travelers or to those they have "left behind," since every level of the multiverse contains an analog of almost every other person or object that might possibly be found in what we are now coming to see as an apparently infinite number of parallel universes.

          Experimenting with the touchstone has been rather illuminating in other ways as well, for, as one might find with the use of biofeedback, it's entirely possible, if not inevitable, to learn how to raise or lower one's place in the universe just as you might come to be able to control one's heart rate. Such navigation through the multiverse is as simple as concentrating on the color one sees and gradually guiding it to shift under the direction of one's will. This is useful, among other reasons, because it seems that there are some beings who are almost impossible to locate outside of there own "level," especially near the very top or the very bottom.

          But perhaps the most amazing development comes at the point when one inevitably finds that their use of the actual stone has become superfluous. In time, and with a deep enough understanding of our ultimate reality, I believe that almost anyone's awareness of the stone's current color becomes so intuitively obvious that one really shouldn't even need to physically check it. At this level one will also find that he or she has the absolutely invaluable ability to reproduce those same sort of willed and intentional dimensional navigations described above simply by clearly visualizing the touchstone in one's own mind and willing a shift in the colors as usual.

          But please, now that you've become psychically aware of this objects existence, its function, and the true structure of our reality, I'd like you to take a moment to simply close your eyes and answer these two very simple questions: What's the current color of your touchstone and where would you like to attempt to travel today? Good luck and Namaste.

Archangels of the Unconscious

           Recently I'd renewed my interest in achieving what scientists and mystics alike refer to as the "lucid dream state," albeit with very limited initial success. Until last night the best I had managed were a frustrating series of only "semi-lucid" dreams, wherein I found myself slightly, although not sufficiently, disturbed by a few of the more unusual dream events I'd experience, leading to questions like, “Why are all people I’m running into being played by famous actors?” or “Hmm… I’m not usually Jewish, am I?” or “Wait, aren't you usually dead?”

           Despite persistent nagging suspicions such as these that something was not quite right, I just wasn’t making that final obvious leap in logic which would allow me to realize that I was, in fact, dreaming; That is, until last night, when I had the following dream:

           I’m at some sort of martial arts convention being held in a fancy hotel. At one point I’m watching a Kung Fu Master named Yang Jwing-Ming give a joint-locking demonstration when I suddenly feel someone staring at me. Across the room I see a slightly chubby unshaven Chinese gentleman in a coat and hat, but then, all of a sudden, he turns into a completely different person; a Middle Eastern man with a long beard, big black eyes, dressed in these long green robes, and, strangest of all, we can hear each other’s thoughts (but of course, none of this stuff seems weird enough to me to tip me off that I’m dreaming... yet).

           Anyway, he indicates that he wants me to follow him and, as he leads me through the hotel, through this secret doorway, and down a long spiraling stone staircase, I can hear him talking in my head about being an immortal prophet of the one true and secret religion and how dreams serve as just one of many connections between two worlds that should never have been rent asunder, and by the time I reach the bottom step, I realize, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this is an obvious dream, and I can have anything I want.

           Suddenly I’m with a beautiful woman who tells me that I have a choice to make, “your way or mine,” and starts shifting between being the guy I’d been following and being this women. Then she says something like “I guess it’ll be your way then” and she starts taking off her clothes, but I can see that she/he's upset so I apologize and tell him/her that I really do want to know where he/she was trying to take me.

           She asks me a few more times if I’m sure that I don’t want to just have sex but, no longer really trusting in the sincerity of the offer or of his/her gender, I apologize again for turning him into a woman and say that I’ll let him show me whatever it was that he wanted to show me originally (Interestingly enough he actually stays a sexy woman for the rest of the dream and gives me various reasons to believe that he’s more than a little bit annoyed about it, but he tells me, rather ominously, that it really doesn’t matter because his job here is simply to “deliver me to them.”).

           So this is the part where it gets really interesting; he takes me to a long table floating in this vast and otherwise empty void with what appear to be seven Archangels seated all around the opposite side of it. After we talk for a while they tell me that although I’ll probably forget most of this I really only have to remember two essential things: Each one of their names, so as to call on them, and the seven tasks that each one of them wants to have carried out back on Earth.

           These angels promise that they'll watch over me and anyone else who chooses to serve as their hands here on the ground, and they tell me to share all of this here, on my blog, but then not to talk about it too much after that.

           The first angel’s name is Gabriel (which, by the way, means “The Hero of God”), and he commands me to fight against Evil. The second angel’s name is Raphael (which means “The Healing of God”), who asks that I nourish the weak. The third angel is Michael (which means “Who is like God?”), and he tells me to humble the mighty, and the fourth angel is, of course, Auriel (which means “The Light of God”), who cautions me to always be mindful.

           The final three angels are unusual and so these are the ones who’s messages Auriel warns will be the hardest to remember if I don’t just concentrate primarily on the meanings of their names. She tells me to write this all down as soon as I wake up (and that I really should work on developing my memory, and my facility with mnemonics in particular) but I think I did a really good job if I do say so myself:

           There's Haniel (whose name means “The Grace of God”) who tells me to be graceful, and then there's Raziel ("The Secret of God") who suggests that I learn how to gather intelligence, and then he introduces the final angel at the table, Azazel (adding that his name means “Separated from God”). Azazel, unlike the others, refuses to speak, even as many of the other angels begin telling him that it's his turn, but we just smile at each other, because we both know that I already know what his secret “orders” are… Don’t you?

           That’s pretty much it. Although I can occasionally remember my dreams pretty well, this one was obviously uncharacteristically detailed and vivid. It's possible that I remembered it all so well because of how it ended, with my transgendered guide interrupting Auriel’s explanation of some method or other that I should use to help me remember all this stuff with the sudden interjection, “This ought to do the trick,” and then immediately hitting me in the face with something big (I think it was either a book or a shovel, but I’m not sure; I suppose it could have been a pillow, or, quite possibly, it was just reality itself).

           Whatever it was, she was right, because I suddenly found myself wide awake and reaching for the notebook that I keep for exactly this purpose on the nightstand right beside my bed. I scribbled down as many important details as I could remember and then immediately opened up my laptop to begin writing this, a work which has now utterly consumed the first few hours of my day, on this, the first day of summer, 2012.

           I’m sure that a lot of people will probably say that I just made all this up, and to these very reasonable skeptics I can only respond, “Yes. I wholeheartedly agree.” I myself don’t actually believe that this is proof of anything necessarily being “out there” or that I’ve been “chosen” for anything special; I think that it’s most likely that I simply produced a highly detailed, wildly fantastic, emotionally evocative fantasy, entirely within the confines of my own feverish little brain, but this also just so happens to be a fantasy which conveniently begs to be extended out into my waking life as well, and therein, I feel, lay its true brilliance.

           In short, I believe that the ultimate “truth” of this, as with so many things, will have to be found in how well it “proves itself” in whatever new experiences or new worlds these new tenets guide each one of us to create, and I say “us” because, obviously, they’re here now for you as well. In the end, each of us can choose to believe whatever we wish, yet, regardless of whether this dream’s ultimate reality turns out to be mere fantasy or prophesy, I don’t really see any difference in its basic utility for those few among us currently struggling to walk the walk of sincere and effective Malakim here on the often vicious, although perhaps largely benevolent, hell that we call Earth. Good Luck and Namaste.

The 7 Duties of Malakim
Gabriel- Fight Evil
Raphael- Nourish the weak
Michael- Humble the mighty
Uriel- Be mindful
Haniel - Be graceful
Raziel- Gather intelligence
Azazel- (reserved for the Malakim only)

Prometheus and the Meaning of Life

          Monday night I caught the late showing of Ridley Scott’s latest sci-fi epic, “Prometheus,” and if you haven’t seen it yet, then you might want to skip this spoileriffic post and just come back here after you’ve had a chance to see it for yourself. If not, then at the very least consider yourself warned.

          The tale revolves around a misguided expedition deep into outer space to locate an alien race of higher beings, dubbed “the Engineers” by the movie’s protagonist who believes them to be our creators. By the movie's end it turns out that the geriatric trillionaire who funded the whole expedition didn’t, as we were lead to believe, pay a trillion dollars just to help realize the religious hopes and dreams of two wacky archeologists, but, rather, so that he can ask one these keepers-of-the-secrets-of-creation to make him immortal. He gets his wish of course, and by that I mean that they find one of these “Engineers” and he gets to ask his question, only to have his skull immediately bashed in with the violently decapitated head of his android interpreter by an angry alien albino who then proceeds to jump right into the driver’s seat of his space ship, apparently, on his way to kill everybody else from the planet of the asshole who woke him up to ask him such a selfish fucking question.

          This movie seems to baffle everybody, as I’m pretty sure it was designed to do, but there are a few possible explanations that I think make sense of it all. Basically, based on some of the lines in this, and in some of the other alien movies, not to mention the thanatotic artistic inspirations of Ridley Scott (i.e. Giger), I think it’s safe to say that the Engineers are a race of death worshiping Gnostic Archons. From the opening scene in which one of the Engineers takes his own life in order to (again, apparently) seed some earth-like planet with new life, to the often expressed idea that the Xenomorphs in the Alien movies are the ultimate living organism, I concur with a few others on the internet who have speculated that the Engineers are none other than the Igigi, the rebellious servants of the Annanuki from Sumerian myth.

          This is a fairly interesting idea, one which, when examined more closely, may serve to shed some light not only on this film but on the oft-misinterpreted myths of the Sumerians as well.

          To summarize, the ancient Sumerians (with only a few minor semantic revisions by modern believers in the ancient astronaut theory) believed that Man was originally created by aliens, aliens who were, in fact, slaves themselves, all so that we could “mine for gold” (more on THAT little gem later). According to the myths, this overworked slave race, known as the Igigi, genetically engineered us using their very own genes, and some other stuff that they found lying around down here, so that we could toil in their place in endless service to their own even more mysterious masters, the Annunaki. The rocky relationship between the Annunaki and the Igigi seems to be one fraught with constant labor disputes and rebellions, as even after they created mankind to replace themselves as slaves they still contrived to turn US against their former overlords as well, going so far as to re-engineer us via interbreeding (i.e. sexing our women a la the biblical story of the Nephilim) so that we too might be able to rise up and throw off the onerous yoke of slavery.

          One wonders exactly how far back the ancient Alchemist’s metaphorical use of the word “gold” reaches, and if, perhaps, the Annunaki were not, as the myths literally state, searching for precious metal, but rather something even more precious, although far less tangible. What if the Annunaki are not physical beings at all, but rather thought forms, Platonic ideals if you will, who require physical creatures as temporal experience machines to synthesize existential angst and other deliciously abstract sentiments which would, for them anyway, be otherwise unrealizable; mining for gold indeed.

          In this way physical life would best be understood as a tragic comedy, or, at worst, a hell of inescapable pain and suffering. Ridly Scott has admitted to being inspired by ancient Middle Eastern mythology, so, if these Engineers are indeed the Igigi, then the reason they would create a black goo that would cause women to birth nightmares like the Xenomorps, turn good men to ash, and turn lesser men into nigh unstoppable killing machines, is simply this: When the true point of all created life is simply to suffer and die, this’s the only kind of gold that their inhumane, sensually deprived, masters really crave.

          But perhaps it was all summed up best by T. E. Lawrence when he said, “Certainly it hurts... The trick, William Potter, is not minding that it hurts.” Good luck and Namaste.

Guarding the Narthex

           The Narthex is a non-localized ritually activated portal that links our world to an obscure pocket dimension of nearly forgotten myths and fading magics. It is perhaps the last remaining access point between here and this vast and hidden netherworld, which was originally opened so as to provide both a means of escape and a stable refuge for countless magical creatures attempting to survive the demise of Earth's last great mythic age. The Kingdoms of the Djinn, the Elves, and the Fae; the Cryptids and the Shifters; the Dragons and the Titans; the unspeakable Elder things; all of these once proud beings are now huddled together in this secret outer world, pushed to the edge of reality and driven nearly to the brink of extinction.

           The roots of this purge can be traced back to the potent banishing rites of the Osirians and, later, the Catholic Church, worked faithfully for centuries by a growing army of clerics banded together beneath the banner of the dying god. Ironically, this faith paved the way for it's own demise as well, by furnishing mankind with a banal world largely sanitized of the supernatural, inuring us all to the plodding and constrained march of human reason and the quantum tyranny of empirical science; Christianity may have locked and bolted these doors, but it was our so-called scientific progress that eventually threw away all the keys.

           Because of this, even the Angels and the Demons eventually found that their heavens and hells were all becoming too drab to house more than a fraction of their once considerable power and glory, and so, as it was designed to do, the Narthex has led these creatures to asylum as well.

           The Narthex can be opened in many different ways but all of these methods seem to rely, at least in part, on a basic suspension of disbelief. To this end, a sacred space must be engineered, not only in one's surroundings but in the minds of its observers as well, which will permit these two dissonant worlds to touch, if only for a moment, so that things might be exchanged between those on either side. Thoughts, memories, feelings, even powers and personages can be passed into and out of our world by the tangible evocation and activation of a Narthex proper. The possibilities are limited only by the size and the strength of its manifestation.

           Don't over think it; The Narthex often slips open of its own accord, where there are children are at play or covens at work or a changling lost deep in thought. The surest way to find your way to the Narthex is simply to call out to it by name, perhaps in some secret or well concealed place, where your feet fear to go and your mind starts to spin and your heart begins to tremble and turn. Perhaps you'll choose a day when the veil is said to be thin, or a place where others claim that strange and unexplainable things tend to happen, like a supposedly haunted house where the angles all seem to be a little bit off. Whenever, wherever and why ever you seek the Narthex, know that, regardless of the exotic or aesthetically stimulating places that you may carry your body, the gate actually opens itself up nowhere else but inside of you. Good luck and Namaste.

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