~~~ The Green Bird Faery Song of All Seriousness ~~~

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if I know what is to happen
the dance is an entrainment
I’ve seen the next worlds over
and in those ideals we’ve already won

my spine a tuning fork
I wander about the earth
attracted to the striking
against the rituals harmonizing
the fluid spirals in my back

I bear the pain of aeons
in my body collapsed on this time
and each days distillation
undoes that karma more and more
they used to say I’m ‘cut from the heel’

I am causeless
my instinct provides
a trail of iron and wine
I- follow like a blood hound
I- the smallest part, the straw
I- break the spine of oblivion

the years pass on
the stories chase me
of happenings surrounding
a clueless head of vacuums bliss
immortal against the volley
flaming bolts against the messenger

my gyroscope a weapon
of chaos and synchronicity
a radiating force field
with gold and silver keys
sprouting plum blossoms
riding the dragon of non-duality

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the incomprehensible skill
royal by blood and transmigration
natural and metanormal
theurgic and thaumaturgic
now the future, now the past, now
indomitable throughout territorial time

grounded in my horse, devouring earth
whether I am running on the planes
or here about sweet Terra’s waning garden
soft becomes hard, hard becomes soft
twin dragons constantly vie for the pearl

and that all but forgotten human mission
to one day in time attain the sun
is possible in ways utterly odd
to the way of heaven before the calamity
and we recognize the beauty of the meta-music
which forsaw this groove from the start

dance to a way that says love is the law
trance to the law that demands love under will
eros and agape, love against love
be drunk on the inescapable condition of being
and in that ocean finally rest in your soul
show your angels the eyes of the bornless one

yes in my eyes, sweet angels on earth
the inescapable flames of first glory
dust off the slime from your wings
oh long cast out demons of splendour and light
the long sleep of shadow has ended
the promised revealing and victory; yea, Victory

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What’s My Name

The True Artist develops pseudonyms (masques) not as something to be thrown away, but as constant components to her complex existence to be integrated and transcended. When a completely new and radical unfolding in the artistic vision becomes apparent, where all old rote and rituals are suddenly and often violently rendered (not useless but) null; it becomes a sacred honor to consecrate this new awareness with a name.

In so embodying (inhabiting, remembering) this new transcendence, the artist must remain totally aware that the previous personalities of her now transcendental vision are still required as components in the maintenance of the new Genius thus attained thereunto. And the ultimate first calculation is a karma person such as it stood when the artist first began the habit of redefining and naming herself … apropos, all Genius requires the component of the original person you were programmed to be before you got to play your hand at hacking your own awareness.

By giving these states of awareness attained a name (masque), we can investigate their character by a process of objectification. In integral jargon: “the subject of your current state of awareness (subjective perception) becomes the object in the awareness of the higher transcendent state”. The proof of this occurrence is the negation of all conflicts experienced at the previous states. These conflicts may remain within the older, deeper, and component masques (pseudonyms); negation simply means they cease to leave a karmic trace … they now equal zero. This ‘equaling zero’ of the spiraling architecture of artistic personalities is called ‘transparency’. The metaphor here being of divine light, stained glass, nakedness and vulnerability, etc.

This process of the artistic evolution of Intellect has been alluded to everywhere by the wise because it is purposeful and is a process which is more accurately described as an operation (fnord). Some of my favorite axioms pointing to this secret can be found in Crowley’s “Love Under Will”, Wilber’s “Transcend and Include”, Falco’s “Arrow of Complexity”, and Dee’s “Hieroglyphic Monad”.

But what is important in Dancing the Masque is that there is a thread of continuity. That the Transcendent state comes ‘back to market’; befriends all the demons and enlists them in the honour guard; loves, embraces, maintains, and cares for all the previous states of personhood which are still so essential to the complex expression of artistic genius as it is right now. All masques must be given their proper timing and groove on the ballroom floor.

This may seem like a lot of work … and it is. But this way of working does not cost energy when the entire proccess is accounted. The act of transcendence radically liberates energies that had been locked away inside our unexplored kinks. This way of heaven, this way of immortality, purity and superiority was summed up by the most interesting man in the world when commenting on Masquerades:

“If the only thing that comes off at the unmasking hour is the mask, you have done something wrong.”

This is a good metaphor for transparency, and is a kind of vulnerable nakedness much more difficult than nudity. Its presense emits the sweet perfume of genius, intellect, myth, and artistry into the air like inscense. This is the eros and eroticism of all true sapiosexual potion; because the consciousness (soul) is the seat of transcendent wisdom. And the infinite of consciousness can paradoxically contain the void incomprehensibleness of pure Intellect; pure Wisdom, and that is Big Love. And the body in gross matter, ludicrouslly paradoxically can contain all of this; and that is power and bliss, and force and light.

This is why having the names of yourself and others remain in your pure heart is power. This is how developing a relationship with your global-centric self can allow you to put the entire planet and its complex symbiotic ecosystems into your pure heart. And this is how wisdom inhabits courage and acts in power. Through alignment, through timing, groove. Heat and Moisture, Vital Force and Subtle Electricities; the transmutation happens right on time.

Stay Thirsty, Stay Foolish.

The Taxiarch Archangel Michael

“If you see a Class V demon on the street, what are you going to do?”

It hit me right at that moment. The beautiful and nimble grandmother of Cherokee blood had just called me out in perfectly magickal terms. This Being who for the past day had erased my ability to think with my feminine brain with every action she took, every word she spoke, and every gesture of subtle energy which I in my ignorance could hardly even detect. I understood why she was a he and her name was Michael. An Archangel had come to teach us, to be with us, to talk with us and share with us.

“Are you a slayer?” Michael looked at me knowing the answer before he even asked. Pouncing on a golden lynx, nimble and supple as a cat in his own right, which seemed completely ridiculous in the robust and Aged to Wisdom Body Michael had chosen, just another stroke of Divine Humor which couldn’t help itself, a mere side effect of being an archangel acting in 3d.

You couldn’t talk to Michael using your cognition. No, it was required that you use pure dreaming. Magnified by the Cherokee traditions coursing through the blood of the host, we were on a shamanic journey and falling into each others trance. Michael befriended me because I loved him openly and joyfully. And what treasures he provided for me, unlooked for by me, and still as yet largely incomprehensible. The seeds of an Archangels wisdom and transmissions are fully realized in the moment and yet extrapolating themselves exponentially over an unfolding time I can now pass along as if by a silvery chord and thread.

He wants nothing more than to slay demons, the forces of impurity, always. Creatively expressing himself, and using his incomprehensible vision to describe to us our past lives, the wounds and trials we faced; before bidding us to extract the trace, the karma, the demon … undoing us all with gestures and improvisations completely profound. Around the ritual fire, as we prepared the ad-lib ceremony space, Michael was playing with his electronic lightsaber. He had brought 5 items to the altar to consecrate, charge, and link the energy. The most interesting of which was of course the lightsaber. He brought a spaceship helmet as well. Who are we for even a second to question the same being who donned the robe of a crone, and so easily doled out fractal pieces of the Graal, as long as you were willing to accept a treat from a strange old crone that is …

A silver blade, and a golden blade, and a book of ceremonial initiation. The hum and vibration of these 3 particular ritual artifacts was somehow and inexplicably connected to the rhythm of the earth herself. A rhythm you could hear in Michael’s walk, and a rhythm he could teach you to feel simply by connecting you to the last ceremonial objects he brought with him. Not on the alter, the sixth and seventh objects were a Cherokee Community Drum, and an Ivory chestpiece. Completing a circuit of forgiveness between the trail of tears and the illuminated initiates who first came to develop our great and beautiful country. Michael’s particular manifestation in this part of time having the dual effect of healing the deep strife left on the land by the mistakes of the primitive men who nonetheless seeded and founded these great United States.

He lectured me on internalization of symbols, on making real, and bid me approach the Templar blades. He asked me to choose one and pick it up. I liked how pretty the silver blade was, so I took it up in my hand, unsheathed it, and performed some basic ritual movements, feeling its beauty. Then Michael asked me to pick up the golden sword. I was shocked to find that when I touched it, a vibration coursed through my forearm … and as I unsheathed the golden blade I understood the intention behind the lightsaber. I could almost hear the sound of an energetic phasing powering up when that charged blade was released from its scabbard into my hand. I looked at Michael and he addressed me sternly, “now tell me when you are going to stop waiting and step into the lead. ┬áSomeone must lead”.

Michael was getting ready to depart when I met him. And indeed, he has not decided still whether or not he will stay. But we certainly asked him to. To stay and fight with us, against the many faceted and many headed and many wiled demon which is the ultimate calamity against humankind. In fact he came to train us so that he could go on another adventure … to places and planes of existence barely contemplated against or looked for, or required for the magnum opus of humanity. Angels may have functions, but the broad scope of their dominion is still in many ways and in some sense far beyond the bridge nature of humanity.

It was after midnight, at the feasting and the drinking after drawing down the moon. He looked at me, I was already happily and perfectly drunk. “If you see a Class V demon on the street, what are you going to do?” He wanted to go demon slaying of course, right now, after dinner before the dessert was served. The champagne had lit a glorious passion in his eyes. He stood up to speak, but could not be heard over the din, and happily did not use his real voice to get our attention. Instead I struck the brass of the ritual chalice, which sent out the vibration and tone of the ritual energies themselves and silence fell about the room. I may not be slaying demons with Michael tonight, but at least I can open the ceremony for him!

“For know that it is better to fall on my blade and perish than to make the attempt with fear in thy heart! How will you enter the circle?” … it was only M and I who raised our glasses in a resounding and boisterous cry of “With Perfect Love and Perfect Trust!!”. And Michael had the ritual space he needed to slay demons. And as I took my favorite position to be in; quiet, sitting, imbibing alcohol and quietly pondering a job well done; the full realization settled in on me.

The Archangels are here among us.

Core (la lune est toujours la)

The relaxed abdomen method is not a tenable approach for the magician. Relaxing the abdomen is practiced for a variety of good reasons. When you relax your abdomen and breathe deeply into it, your brain wave relaxes into hypnogogic trance states. Abdominal breathing in this way can give you the ability to sense subtle and dream forces in the waking world, by generating an abundance of alpha and theta brain waves. Not only this, but a passive sense of well being and neutrality are also cultivated in the thoughts, and a sense of ‘flow’ and contentment is also a common result of a devoted abdominal breathing practice. Lots of stretching can deepen this state.

This state is the preferred state for the civilian. Such a state cultivates a willingness to go with the flow and meld together into a strong sense of community mind, thereby creating a strong egregore which can be further utilized. Plasticity is the best possible state for the citizen. Thaumaturgy requires willingness, and a relaxed abdomen keeps you willing and able to follow orders. Egregore will be sold as supermind; stop buying.

Nature spirits become objectified through projection, and the body and mind fracture. Suddenly, masturbation is spirit relation, and the universe is caressing my body, rather than my body caressing the unknown. This is the problem with projection, the astral is not objective. The egregore is a social agreement, and it isn’t anything new for a group of humans to sacrifice their vital force because they became convinced the thrill was enlightenment. In fact, this kind of operation and application is par for the course. I am happy to see it … it’s just that I for one am not for sale in such a manner. My vital force has its own purpose, its own soul directive, and its own rules. I also feel compelled to share with others on the path that Magick requires personal strength; leave the pre-rational cosmic pool to the civilians. Real spirituality in Magick is a positive war, where all that is not Purity is violently and immediately ended.

And the positive need for strength as a magician brings me back to truth, the body. The abdomen is the strength of the body. To cultivate this strength, the abdomen must be vacuumed, the core and abdominal muscles must be engaged, the anus tightened gently and sealed, the spine pulled tight in both directions. This is taking command of the body, and is the beginning of fusion. When the abdomen is relaxed, energy is sensed. When the abdomen is vacuumed, energy is fused.

When you sense energy in a passive way, with a relaxed abdomen, you then react to it based on a dream from your own internal habit of beauty, you apply meaning to it based on your brains habit of thinking, or whatever thaumaturgic effects you happen to be dwelling on at any given time. When energy is fused in an active way, you move with it without bias, from your spine, as it is, in its pure and primal form. The universe opens and closes, rises and falls, moves forward then back, then in, then out. The universe does, and then it doesn’t. A relaxed abdomen always opens, never hinges, doesn’t know how or when to close. Making choices from this relaxed state becomes difficult unless such choices are molded to the egregore, or the memory of being in the womb, and this is your first clue that supermind is more than egregore, and more than a cosmic pool where no one has to suffer.

Without fusion, cultivation cannot occur. Cultivation is a precursor to distillation, and the resulting essence is then stored in the body, in a specific and structured matrix of 8 which is further itself fused to the lunar current and its phasing. This is a true method of subtlizing the body … Which then turns the body into a magickal weapon. Charged, consecrated, and sacred. A perfectly magickal approach to perfecting the great work in the body. Objectively real because it involves the translation of the body as a method of checking results. Perfectly efficient because it requires no outside methodology of ‘tech-prep’ nor does it require the use of artifacts. It should not take too much imagination to understand that such a subtle and technical approach to the strengthening and maintenance of the body allows partnering combinations for the creation of spiritual elixirs, the charging of intention, the contacting of Theurgic forces and principles, and true congress and symbiotic exchange with galactic personalities. This is the highest of alchemical arts and requires skill, timing (groove), discernment, and discretion from each individual; and time (nodes). And a fair amount of kink. Discipline is not for everyone.

The foundation of all of which is strength. Foundation, the molten core, the alchemical furnace, the 9, the moon, yesod, the abdomen. It was a woman who brought the wisdom of abdominal strength. It is through the vacuum in the abdomen that the true wisdom of Sophia, and of Babalon is consummated. And when the moon is full do we contact the Hard energy, the 3 solid lines of heavenly sky, of synchronic forces. And in the body as Imperial Fire. The true spiritual fire which always comes to trump the ministerial fires of yin and yang. The Imperial Fire of Wings and Ram, of Governance and of Rising Force; and the small intestines. The light of the hermit, the tip of the Yod. I salute the God within.