Sunday, January 25, 2015

ProGnosis (revisited yet again)


We started out with a discussion on "Evil" - its definition and possible origins. Now it seems we are attempting to summarize EVERYTHING we think we know about EXISTENCE and post it via email to Edward Kemp, investigative anthropologist residing in Quebec, who will then pass it around a few others on his mailing list - who, no doubt, will have lots more to add to this virtual conference, which in theory could go on indefinitely like a verbal marathon, till one by one the participants drop away through boredom, fatigue, or irritation.

WHY are we doing this? WHY am I writing what I'm writing now? Knowing full well I really don't have to - even if I did promise Ed I'd sum up the situation the best I can, if only to clear the cobwebs in my brain. Clearly, there is pleasure in hearing the sound of our own voices, especially if we believe someone is actually listening. Sweet nights under the starry desert sky, passing a portable hookah around while waiting for the coffee to brew, in the company of savant mystics, each with 1001 anecdotes to relate, and a dozen theories to propound. That's the image I get out of this exercise.

At this moment my mind is a blank slate. Many, many moments ago I was omniscient, knew just about everything, or thought I did. But it now feels as if I have passed through an etheric membrane, like bursting through an amniotic sac, and I am like a newborn babe in a world completely unfamiliar and incomprehensible. Yet I do have a genetic archive where memories are haphazardly filed away (some day I'll get around to sorting out the mess, some day!)

Arcane knowledge, esoterica, the occult, Mystery Schools, the Gnosis... ahhh, the long road we have traveled around and around the zodiac. All this juxtaposed with massacres, blood sacrifice, witch-hunts, secret police, bioweapons, reptilian-Anunnaki Illuminati cabals, MK-ULTRAACIOMen In Black, Zeta-Drako agents in cahoots with the military top brass, mind control, ELF, The Frequency Fence, Priory of Sion...

Where's the Cartoon Universe? Lemme outa here!


The Mystery is My Story. It's as simple as That. And my story is told in spiralling fractals of prismatic LIGHT, moving as information through neurons and synapses in billions of Other Aspects, occasionally recognizable as fragments of my Original Core Self. From the Unnameable issues all names, from the One comes the Many, from Nothing Everything emerges.  From My Story is born All Stories - and stories are all we have to go by. Some stories make you cry, some make you laugh, some make you go Aha! And some just put you to sleep.

The ones that put you to sleep are told by Dark Sorcerers who steal power from you by putting you under their hypnotic spell. The Eater of Souls is one whose stories are deadly dull and cluttered with meaningless facts and figures - try reading an Environmental Impact Assessment report for a World Bank funded dam project!

EVIL is LIVE in reverse, just as EROS is SORE!

Is EVIL really VILE or just a VEIL for the Sacred Bride? A ROSE for My Lady! I arose for my lady but she was still sore at me so Eros has to wait. Words, wordplay, in the beginning was the Word. The Logos. Is Logic our friend? Do I sound Antisemantic?

In 1976 Julian Jaynes wrote The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind, in which he postulated that auditory commands registered in the right hemisphere of the brain are rendered into language by the left and interpreted as Orders from Above. The book almost put me to sleep so it's obvious where he's coming from! Are my thoughts influenced by Archetypal imprints transmitted via photons? Are the Ascended Masters and the Archangels and Pleiadian Councils guiding the way I evolve as a hybrid humanoid with an unknown number of lineages seeded over countless aeons by legions of ultra-, meta- and extraterrestrials? Are the Sun and the planets and myriads of stars talking to Me? I am a Descended Master - and a family man - and you have my email address!

God Immanent and Transcendent: Within and Without! As an occasional Solipsist, I revert to being God in the privacy of my own Mind - but in public my divinity is externalized and God becomes my cosmic Father/Mother. The Undotted I from Whom i originated. Great Spirit! Does God know humility? Why so many Names? Mind Games...

If Linear Time is an illusion, what does that make "history"? His story, her story, Whose Story? Who Else? Virtual Reality hologram movies made by Whom? ME? Did I invent the Suns of the One and the Paradise Sons? Did the shadows they cast as they acquired density become the Sons of Belial? My Shadow Selves are legion. Do shadows have Free Will? A life of their own? The Pinocchio Effect: does it apply to shadows, who take on a life of their own as our Evil Twins, our Doppelgängers, our Ids? Pleasure to meet you, Mr Hyde, would you like some tea?

If I didn't do all this.... WHO did? Greg? Ed Kemp? Mr Baggy? Queen Kate? Maisoon? John Kaminski? Pancho Villa? The Man of La Mancha? Onaxis? Atmanu Ram Anu? Prime Creator Source? Are Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld really part of me? Retch.  Puke. Vomit. Poison in the bloodstream. Stupid White Men in their Dark Suits and Blood-Red Ties. Their insane arrogance and incurable halitosis. Do I HATE them? Sometimes, yes!

I hate bits of myself sometimes. My receding chin, puffy eye bags (legacy of my mother's dragon bloodline, degenerate nobility, mercenary magicians). Reptilian DNA. Reptilian implants. (Some good news here: the Great-Great-Granddaddy of them Rebel Reptiles that invaded and colonized the Earth 225 million years ago has recently been vaporized by Prime Creator Source and the hypothalamic reptile brain is rapidly losing its deadly stranglehold on the angelic humans!) But I have no bone to pick with the Great Reptile Families. Only a handful are mean-minded and totally mad. They think they can hijack Creation and make it their very own Miscreation.

What about all those scary entities you hear about? Choronzon, Ialdabaoth, Samael, Nosferatu, Kahotep, Aleister Crowley, Lafayette Ron Hubbard, Anton La Vey, Idi Amin, Robert Mugabe, Jeffrey Dahmer, Armin Meweis, George Herbert Walker Bush, Mahathir Mohamad, Rosmah Mansor... Tales from the Crypt!  The Undead. Shudder... Enochian magicians are such Woeful Wankers!

Which parts of me are they? Denizens of my Unconscious, terrorizing the Collective Psyche into sheeplike submission through their dominance of the Airwaves and the Microwaves and the Ultrawaves, killing off Cetaceans so we will be bereft of our Memories of the Deep from Antediluvian Days. Who are all these Zeta-Drako-Human clones in the Office of Naval Research and who now occupy the penthouse floors of the Pentagon? Who do THEY worship? What Secret Chiefs? Marduk? Lucifer? What Nameless Ones do they sacrifice young children to? In the robes of Aztec priests or Dark Druids, with their hideous addiction to solemn ritual, they are the inner core of a Kosmik Ku Klux Klan. Always looking for Niggers to lynch, are they the Great White Brotherhood?

The Sirius Lodge and the Orion Light Council... Galactic Federation... Ashtar Command... Pleiadian Agenda... Guardian Alliance... Melchizedek Cloisters... United Intruder Resistance... Stargate Keepers... Multidimensional Vortex Merkabas. Seems I'm getting so complicated I'll never understand Myself completely! Jesus H. Christ may be a curse on some people's lips - but he's a good friend of mine. Long live Christos Power!

The Wars of Gods and Men are giving me a monster bellyache! 'Scuse me, folks.... gotta go make a Leviathan Poop! Maybe I'll start an organic fertilizer business. See you in a bit ;-)

Antares


[First published 10 December 2003. Posted 11 July 2012]

Thursday, January 22, 2015

Altantuya's Murder: The Orang Asli Factor (reprise)


It should have been the perfect cover-up. Troublesome Mongolian woman is "arrested" by plainclothes policemen outside the gates of Abdul Razak Baginda's residence where she had been causing embarrassment to the political analyst, defence consultant, speechwriter and personal friend of Najib Razak, Malaysia's defence minister and deputy PM. The Mongolian woman believes the Malaysian police will take her to the station, interrogate and intimidate her, and then forcibly deport her.

Nobody knows exactly what happened to Altantuya Shaariibuu between the time she was seen entering the Unit Tindakan Khas (Special Action Squad) officer's car and the time her body was blasted to tiny fragments with C4 explosives. Was she taken to Bukit Aman? Or driven to a secret location and toyed with before getting shot twice in the head (according to some reports)? Did her police abductors treat her with courtesy - or was she humiliated, tortured and raped before they killed her? Will we ever find out? The two UTK officers who have been charged with the hideous crime - Corporal Sirul Azhar Umar and Chief Inspector Azilah Hadri - were personal bodyguards to defence minister Najib Razak. So under whose specific orders were they acting?

In any case, the only reason Altantuya's body was blown up in the jungle was so that it would never be found - at least not in one piece. Somebody extremely powerful had instructed an immigration officer to delete all computer records of Altantuya Shaariibuu's arrivals and departures from Malaysia. When her cousin lodged a police report that Altantuya had disappeared, a massive search would have been initiated. After which a government spokesman would have told the media that the immigration department had no record of the Mongolian woman arriving in Malaysia. There would be insinuations that Altantuya Shaariibuu did not, in fact, exist - and that her "cousin" was perhaps mentally unsound, possibly paranoiac, and had concocted the story of Altantuya's vanishing act in order to attract attention.

So why did the gruesome story make the front pages on local dailies nearly three weeks after the fictitious Mongolian woman was murdered? Who would have known about the jungle explosion in the middle of the night in the middle of literally nowhere?

I was told by a friend with connections to the legal fraternity that it was an Orang Asli family that reported the blast between October 19 and 20. Altantuya's killers must have killed her and then taken her body to a spot well-known to Chief Inspector Azilah Hadri (who had boasted to Abdul Razak Baginda that he had terminated at least six people "in the line of duty"). Nobody was supposed to hear the explosion that would remove all evidence of Altantuya Shaariibuu's earthly existence. Apparently, unbeknownst to the killers, a few Orang Asli were encamped in the vicinity and were startled by the blast. They investigated the next morning and, realizing that a crime had been committed, lodged a report at the nearest Balai Polis. Thus far I have found no way to confirm this detail. After Googling the case for hours, not one single reference to the Orang Asli factor. If anybody can confirm this, will you please contact me or leave a comment below this post?

I would like to know for certain that it was indeed the Orang Asli who blew the lid on this macabre and malevolent affair. It would be the ultimate irony, if this was true, that the "highest and mightiest" in the land would ultimately be brought down by the humblest of the humble.

[First published 26 April 2008. Reposted 23 August 2013 & 17 October 2014]


Sunday, January 18, 2015

Azly Rahman on the metaphysics of blogging (repost)

ZEN AND THE ART OF BLOGGING
Azly Rahman | Malaysiakini | 11 May, 09 11:57am

When I was growing up, I wanted to be Grasshopper, the character in David Carradine's TV series Kung Fu.

Grasshopper was a child imbued with immense interest in learning about what life means and how to create himself. The conversations between the master and the student intrigued me.

My interest in the philosophy of martial arts, drawn from the teachings of the masters of the Shaolin Temple, led me later in life to also study Oriental Literature and Philosophy, reading great works such as The Dream of the Red Chamber, The Tale of Genji, and The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon.

I watched numerous kung fu movies and wanted to also be like Bruce Lee, the man who synthesized Western and Eastern philosophy into an avant-garde form of martial arts.

Reading Buddhism in one of those periods of my spiritual enrichment and encountering works such as Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance and The Dancing Wu Li Masters, I found the idea of deconstructionism and the psychology of awareness even before I plunged into the study of social semiotics in my years in New York City.


Zen Buddhism's most famous advocate in the West is Richard Gere, the American actor who is deeply involved in the campaign for a free Tibet. Gere often speaks with the Dalai Lama in making the world aware of the persecution of the Tibetans by the Chinese government.

Awareness is a key principle of the teaching of the Buddha. Siddhartha Gautama is a quintessential example of a human being who discarded the garment of nobility and elitism and came down to earth and explored the bare nakedness of alienation and dehumanization.

From a prince to a pauper he evolved, in the final days transformed into a philosopher. His struggles against the demons called Mara and his exploration of the self as the powerful cause and effect of existence itself - and how wisdom like pearls will emerge out of deep meditations on the fate of humanity - all these have become a life history example of how one can be at peace and harmony with the universe.


Cyberspace is a world of Maya with Mara shooting arrows at the enlightened ones. One has to be a Shaolin master in order to fight these demons and to continue to evolve into wise individuals.

Paid cyber-troopers in the Malaysian Mahabharata of this millennium is a feature of this perpetually fragmented world. The industrial model has collapsed. The Malaysian monarchical state is in trouble. The Perak plague is a beginning of the Balkanization of this Asian despotic state we are attempting to reconstruct.

Fight the demons

In cyberspace, bloggers are playing the art of making others aware of issues and in the process hopefully imparting wisdom. Bloggers are artists practising the art of harmonizing truth, realism, and activism.

Truth and falsehood multiply endlessly in cyberspace. At the center of the personhood of the blogger lie awareness and the Zen-ness of the master's craft. It is the awareness of what to do with truth and falsehood and the subjectivities and reflectivities in between that determine whether the blogger is fighting the Maras the Buddha fought, or has become one of the Maras.

In cyberspace, bloggers are educating, whether it is education for peace or for war. The more popular the blogger, the greater the impact of the message. The blogger is a weapon itself - in the whole enterprise of waging war or waging peace.

In the political scene, Malaysia is being deconstructed by bloggers. It is a natural progression of the anarchic nature of the Internet. No politician is safe. You can neither run nor hide in cyberspace. It is a Matrix of the Maya world we inhabit; a world of the Maras that attacked Buddha and of the masses that stormed the Bastille.

Malaysia will continue to be destabilized by bloggers - for the better - in her evolution towards the establishment of a just republic or a republic of virtue as the French ideologues of the 18th century would say.

Politicians and pirates of the Malaysian Caribbean, ones who stole from the poor to give to the rich, are in constant fear of bloggers - especially of the Zen bloggers. The Zen blogger, like the messiah on twitter is one who does not speak ill of others in cyberspace but makes people ill by invading the inner spaces of those who abuse power and by oppressing others.

Like a Rumi poem, the Zen blogger takes the middle path in spreading a message of peace through deconstructionism. But deconstruct, the blogger must. Through right thought, right action, right conduct, and right blogging, the blogger must make others aware of what life ought to be. In Malaysia, what ought to be has become what we are wrought to be. This means we have evolved from a nation of tolerance in the 1970s to a nation of totalitarianism in the 21st century.

Like the Wu Li masters and Little Grasshopper, the blogger must know how to dance when given a sword. Like Bruce Lee, he must know how to harmonize the philosophies and create a lethal art of war in his or her work in waging peace.

Only when blogging is an art and science of educating for peace and not a dance of death in Dante's Inferno - not when bloggers can be bought and sold for millions of ringgit by owners of the production of falsehood - we can see the Zen and the art of blogging at play.


Bloggers must journey into the self and fight the demons within. You must, as the Sufi teachers would say, be skilled in journeying from the levels of Shariat, Tarikat, Hakikat, and Makrifat - the levels of outer and inner consciousness that define the harmonious self.

For, essentially, as bloggers we answer to our inner conscience. And ultimately, we are a republic unto ourselves, in a world in which the state is still a necessary evil.

Bloggers - beware and be aware.


[First posted 12 May 2009]


MY DAUGHTER, THE ORIENTAL GODDESS

Li Qin poses for her Goddess-loving father Li Zhuang Ping



















These iconic paintings are by Li Zhuang Ping, a romantic-realist artist born 1948 in Szechuan, China. Though technically flawless, Li's compositions can be said to be mostly derivative, borrowing heavily from the work of well-known European masters like Raphael, Renoir and Velázquez. What has brought this particular collection - popularly known as the "Oriental Goddess" series - to international attention is the fact that Li used his beautiful 23-year-old foster daughter, Li Qin, as his model.

"Qin's perfect form and her natural beauty are what I had in mind for the image of a goddess," Li told an interviewer. "I created the 'Oriental goddess' series with her. She serves as both my model and muse. She inspires as well as lends form to the work. In that sense the paintings are a collaboration between us."

"And, yes, my wife approves," added Mr Li with a smile.

Li Qin, herself an artist, said she began modeling for her foster father five or six years ago, and worked closely with him to create the 'Oriental Goddess' series of oil paintings on canvas which instantly gained notoriety in the Chinese art world.

As to be expected, murmurs of disapproval were soon heard amongst the more conservative. Some critics aver that, while there might be no biological relationship between Li and Qin, the paintings constitute a form of "artistic incest."

My personal take on Li Zhuang Ping's "Oriental Goddess" series? I think the paintings are too kitsch to qualify as "high art" but Li Qin's exceptional beauty certainly deserves to be celebrated. And who better than a doting father (albeit a foster father) to do justice to such distinctive feminine beauty? Transmuting paternal affection, aesthetic ardor and erotic desire into art is the most sublime expression of a father's love I can imagine. What a delightful way to mark the end of the long, dark patriarchal era - when fathers traded off their daughters for social or political advantage, sold them to the highest bidder, intimidated, raped, humiliated, mutilated or impregnated them... or murdered "wayward" daughters to save the "honor" of the family.

Li Qin with her proud and doting grandfather

[First posted 14 March 2009]