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Archive for November, 2012

There are stories that have been told over campfires for as long as Man has had language. Some say these stories were gifts from the gods who made Man, given to teach, given to warn, given to guide, like an ancient stone signpost set at the edge of the road with the word Danger inscribed on it in a thousand different languages.

The stores all begin like this:

Listen.

Listen, there are ancient places in the worlds. Old places, as old as the beginning of time, full of power and mystery and danger. The wise men know that such places are best left undisturbed but there are fools born every moment who do not listen to the wise men. This is as it should be, for what would the Great Crocodile have to eat if it were not for the fools who dared its River.

A wise man who was a fool or a fool who thought himself wise found a door in the heart of such an old place. And the door was opened.

A door was opened that should have remained closed. Sealed long ago, before the Age of Men, sealed in the last days of the War of the Gods, in those times when star systems and galaxies were merely pieces on a game-board so vast that only the greatest minds could encompass its depth and breadth.

A door was opened. Some say it was purposeful, the fools intent on freeing what lay behind it. Some say it was curiosity that opened that door, seeking to solve a mystery. Some say it was merely happenstance, an accident; Fate placing a hand in just the right place to break the last of the fragile and time riddled seals, thus waking the thing that slept inside.

A door was opened and something ineffably ancient walked through it. The fools did not have enough wisdom to fear for their lives, else they would have killed it then, when it was still vulnerable. But the demon took on the shape of a child, confusing them and staying their spears. No sane man can kill a child.

“Why?” asked the Child Out of Time, “Why have to disturbed my dreams?”

“You were entombed alive. You were imprisoned. We took pity on you and wished to set you free.”

“Truly?” the Child asked, shaking its head in wonder, “Why? Did you think I would be grateful?”

“Are you not pleased to be free?” the Fools asked.

“Where are my brethren? I cannot hear anyone, no kith nor kin, in all the reaches of the Universe.”

“You alone survived your prison,” the Fools replied.

“I am alone? Better that you had let me sleep. Better that I had faded into Nothingness as all who have gone before me.” The Child began to fade, its form turning to mist at its edges and blowing away upon the wind from the stars.

“Stay,” the Fools begged. “Join us. Help us. Take pity on us, for we have taken one too many steps down the path to self destruction. Teach us so that we might live. Protect us from our enemies and give us time to learn how to survive.”

“Do you ask this of me?” the Child asked curiously, its form once again solid. “I do not think you understand my nature.”

“You are Star Child. You are a remnant of the power of the One Source, cast out of the Great Caldera at the beginning of time.”

“Am I?”

“With you on our side, our power will become limitless,” the Fools said.

The Child fidgeted, as small children are wont to do who would rather be outside and not stuck in the dim teaching halls. It was a distraction, that, for they did not see the dark fire flash behind her eyes. It was the merest of flickers, a child testing the waters before wading into the shallows. They could have killed her then, should have killed her, but they did not see their danger.

Her keepers, their minds blurred and confused by the shift in the fabric of reality, hesitated. Something had fallen out of the world and something else had walked in to take its place, holding reality together in its stead. It was a small thing. Something unnoticeable. Something inconsequential, like giving the beetle five spots on its wings instead of three or adding an extra note to the song of the willow thrush.

“You should have left me to my slumber,” the Child said sadly. “I am awake out of my time and proper place. I need my Mother, that I might learn subtlety. I need my Father, that I might know compassion. Where are my brothers and husbands? Who will contain my fire when I burn too bright?”

The Fools began to understand their danger at last, but it was too late. The Child buried her fingers in the fabric of reality and shook it hard, as one might shake a cleaning rag to clean it of its accumulated dust. Unseen in the infinite reaches of space around them, the constructs of Man began to crumble.

High overhead, the light from the stars folded in upon itself and something bright and terrible was born, filling half the sky.

“What have you done?” the Fools cried, falling down in fear.

“You wanted to play,” said the little Maker. “Let’s play.”

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In the lexicon of iconic images that define a very complex and specific set of emotions and logical argument  Black Rain lies there as the most subtle of thoughts. Taken from the movie of the same name, it refers to the reason given by the Japanese mob boss when asked why he hated the Americans and all they stood for and why he made it his raison d’etre for making revenge against them his life’s work.

In the movie he describes his experience as a child, when, after surviving the bombs of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, he watched the cinders of a quarter of a million people fall in the form of black rain. “You made the rain black.”

That is to say, you have committed a sin so heinous that it has put you on the list. The unforgivable list. Not even god can forgive you. That kind of sin.

To call it hatred is a pale comparison. Extreme antipathy? An all consuming aversion? Loathing and disgust?  Hostile enmity?

When I say you have made the rain black, it means I hold a total, complete, irreconcilable loathing for you that splits apart the my connections to the hive mind and cuts off the part that hides you.

Hatred gone cold and hard and black.

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What is it about humans, that we take something simple like the teachings of a carpenter from Nazareth or an Arab philosopher and build on it until the original simple idea is lost under a super structure of human hubris and control. Even Joseph Smith, for all that he claims to have channeled a very complicated litany of rules from the angels, started a church based on a few simple core beliefs. What exists now for those religions is virtually unrecognizable as having come from those simple beginnings.

Only now, in the rise of the human intimacy given by internet and cloud, do we look back on our dependency on religion and shake our heads in wonder that we were so deluded.

And yet we have so very much further to go.

We have done to law and social order what we did to our religions. A core of simple rules has become a tottering tower of laws that threaten to topple over with the addition of every new law written.

Logic says that this is a cycle. That countries rise and countries fall, brought down by rebellion or coup or monetary collapse caused by the rigid rigor mortis of old age. That we must start over, like a game of Jenga after that last brick was removed and the whole structure fell down. Wipe the slate, rewrite the rules, make a new Constitution.

But in truth, starting over at square one is only a kind of  Groundhog Day pause in the progression of human evolution while we stop to consider the next step that will get us out of the do-loop.

Did we reinvent religion when it no longer served its purpose? No. We abandoned it, dropping the crutch and walking fee. So to will it be with the rigid thing we call the Rule of Law. And we will do it for very much the same reasons.

When you achieve full consciousness and embrace your sentience, do you really need someone else telling you to do the right thing, when the right thing is so patently obvious and ingrained in your core nature that it is insulting that someone thinks they need to tell you what it is?

And would you listen, when it became apparent that everything they told you was so terribly wrong headed that it was reduced to laughable comedy?

Laughter is the final nail in the coffin lid of all useless things, after all. The monsters under the bed, the boogyman in the closet, the humorless, authoritarian god, the ridiculous cops, judges, and politicians;  they all disappear, shattered and shredded when first we laugh at them instead of being angry or outraged. There is a very fine line between tragedy and a full blown farcical comedy.

You know you are free when they can make you laugh.

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Yoneh Female Vampire Char by dragon blade14

At Samhain we greet the death of the Sun with joyous ceremony and call it Halloween. All Hallows Eve. The night before the Day of the Dead. When the dead walk among the living.

As the veil between the worlds thins and the darkness holds dominion over all Life and we prepare for the ceremonies of Rebirth at the Winter Solstice, it is good to remember that we are human, evolved on a planet that wobbles precariously around its sun and the waning of the light is part and parcel of who we are.

Remember

Some things require the seductive kiss of darkness to grow.

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We, the people of these United States, are winning. It might not seem that way but listen.

Political spending is at an all time high. In fact, what has been spent on this Presidential election alone is almost obscene. That is just the money from SuperPacs and private individuals trying to influence public opinion and buy your vote. And that is not counting what the individual candidates are pouring into their campaign machines. (I’m looking at you, Mittens.)

You know what they say. A fool and his money is soon parted.

The people who think to derail the American democratic process are furious. They love the numbers. Math says that the more money you put into a thing, the more you influence it. But humans are not mathematical in nature. We are geometric, nay, algorithmic. The money guys are realizing that they have reached the vertical line that defines a bell curve at its limits. (That is to say, in the 1990, you could buy a few newspapers and a half dozen politicians with a cool million dollars, thus buying an election. Now, not even a cool trillion will silence the blogs and news aggregater sights or shift those last few votes to your advantage. It’s 2012. We all get our news from the internet and we all have an opinion and are unafraid to yell it from the mountain tops.) It takes more than money to make us change our minds. Stubborn, pig-headed, blindly loyal, we very seldom alter our core belief systems.

Part of the problem is that those who live far above the unwashed herds of humans, separated from their trials and delights by a mountain of money and a battalion of security personnel, have made a fatal mistake. They assumed that they could take any pig, dress it up in pearls and lipstick, and walk it down the catwalk and we would all buy the illusion.  Sorry, guys. This pig is heinously ugly. Jarringly so. Its like being in a movie and having the main character do something out of sync with the narrative of the story. Your suspension of disbelief shatters and the magic ceases. Those wizards whose job it is to cast a spell of illusion over their client so that we will kiss the pig and take it home to meet Mom can only do so much. There is a magic far greater than lies. It lies in the core goodness of every human. That connection can only be stretched so far before it snaps and the illusion becomes disillusion.

The rich and the powerful are waking up to the fact that their advertising dollar is just so much shiat being flushed down the toilet so it is on to plan B. Disenfranchise vast swaths of voters. Force them to stand in line for nine hours to vote. Throw out mail-in ballots for slight discrepancies in signatures. Pull all sorts of shenanigans like adding programs that discards certain electronic votes. America is pugilistic and divisive but there is one thing we love more than the underdog coming up from behind to win. This is a fair fight. This kind of thing is starting to piss people off. There is a desperation in the vote this year. Everyone is determined to make their vote count. Do you want to see riots in the polling places? Keep it up, Ohio.

The powered elite do themselves no favors. Vast numbers of the sane end of the Republican Party are defecting. Like Governor Chris Cristy of New Jersey who basically told Mitt Romney to go fuck himself on national TV. The walls built by Republicans over the past thirty odd years are rapidly crumbling to dust. If you have any hopes for a future political career, you should be distancing yourself from this pig with the red lips as fast as possible.

The next election will be different. The money thugs are trying to control the internet, thus control free access to information. Hidden behind a veil of copyright law chicanery is an organized effort to disconnect you and I from the hive mind. (Not to worry. This we will never allow. It is vital to the evolution of our species that we connect intimately with all life on the planet. Not everyone understands this on a conscious level, but viscerally, down in the core of our lizard brain, we all know it. Even as we speak, the scouts and forerunners, the genetic sports that have been born, as if by magic, all over the planet, are moving to reinforce the fragile child we call the internet, that we might all connect, sync up, and move in synergy with each other and the cosmos.)

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