Thursday, June 4, 2020

Uninstalling Sexual Guilt & Shame


I may well be one of a tiny handful of humans who somehow managed to escape the all-pervasive systematic programming that has instilled a hardwired sense of sexual guilt and shame in the collective human psyche.

None of that occurs among animals, insects or plants. What makes humans so different? I would venture that it’s our capacity to abstract general ideas from everyday experience and convert them into language. The power to name and objectify and be programmed by words; to be encoded from birth by alphanumeric, auditory and visual symbols – that same power is also our greatest weakness.

A long time ago I wrote an essay titled “The Fig Leaf Syndrome” which discussed the ostensible erotophobia common to the Abrahamic Agenda (“ostensible” because it more often than not serves as a camouflage for a perverse species of ego-driven erotomania). Those who publicly preach modesty and abstinence are invariably sexual predators of the most loathsome kind, personifications of false piety and genuine hypocrisy.

But what about me? Am I not also a “sexual predator”? No, I’m a dator, not a pre-dator; I love the dating game, especially if it leads to mating, which doesn’t necessarily have to result in progeny, only a bit of harmless erogeny.

Sex is nature’s way to encourage procreation, but many animals (including humans) have discovered sex as recreation, an intensely pleasurable use of leisure, which facilitates intimacy and deep bonding (when conducted without deceit or guile, and with childlike innocence and purity of feeling).

However, it must be played on a level field, with mutual consent and without coercion, intimidation, unfair advantage. Otherwise, sex becomes a game of power, of domination and submission, master and slave. This loveless species of eroticism leads to a reality construct populated with (and to a large extent controlled by) energy vampires, hungry ghouls, fiendish appeasers of their own bloodthirsty demons who derive atavistic pleasure from reliving carnivore (and even cannibal) cellular memories.

19th century erotic art by Aubrey Beardsley
Unfortunately, humans who fall prey to infestation by astral parasites (you may have heard of them as Archons or Jinns) often serve as agents (witting or unwitting) of cruelty, inflicting pain and terror on others deemed disadvantaged or powerless, especially women and children.

Their total disconnect from their hearts and complete lack of empathy makes them ruthlessly manipulative – which fuels their egoic ambitions to dominate everyone around them and claw their way to the top of the proverbial food chain. This explains why the so-called elite bloodlines are almost always predatory, pedophilic and vampiric, addicted to tyrannical power over others and greedily feasting off negative emotional discharge in the form of grief, pain, misery, despair and terror.

When we consciously uninstall sexual guilt and shame from our neural circuitry, we effectively delete any ideological implants we may have inherited from our own ancestors or acquired through cultural and religious imprinting. Implants that undermine our sense of self-esteem, that mark us as “sinners,” “fornicators,” “libertines,” “sluts,” “dirty-minded” or “unclean.”

For countless generations, we were insidiously programmed to believe that pleasure was sinful - and pain somehow, perversely, virtuous. 

Aubrey Beardsley (1872-1898)
Well, even a single-celled organism like an amoeba has the good sense to be attracted to pleasure and repelled by pain. Only mind-controlled humans are crazy enough to believe that the more we suffer, the more we qualify for a reward in the afterlife.

Once we reclaim and embrace our right to experience pleasure guiltlessly and shamelessly, we stand a good chance of also freeing ourselves from any martyr complex we may have unconsciously acquired as children, listening to insidious tales of famous martyrs like Jesus, Saint Stephen, Joan of Arc, Mahsuri of Langkawi, the Báb of Persia, or any number of poor, misguided jihadists who blew themselves (and others) to pieces believing they would find themselves in a halal version of the Playboy Mansion, surrounded by nubile nymphs, all virginal. (I wonder if female jihadists entertain erotic fantasies of waking up in paradise to a bukkake and gangbang orgy with members of the Vienna Boys’ Choir.)

Look at how the Roman Church glorifies suffering as virtue, by choosing as its symbol the crucified Christ. Can you imagine anything more BDSM than that? (Well, if you lift up the loincloth, you might find that his royal scrotum has also been nailed to the cross).

Be like the cat, the dog, indeed any creature that lives, and openly enjoy being caressed, hugged, kissed, licked, sucked and fucked (without any hidden agenda). Then all humans will finally be released from the pain-follows-pleasure cycle and will no longer experience so much suppression of the libido (or kundalini energy) that their passion erupts in destructive, invasive, exploitative ways.

Don’t just have sex, make slow and tender love. But do so as consciously as possible, with heart wide open and a totally clear conscience. Feel the emotional bond with whomsoever you are intimate with, and allow it to deepen as much as it can. By all means swear undying love in the heat of excitement, but never promise exclusivity, (unless you’re a sucker for guilty pleasures and the embarrassment of being eventually shown up as a liar and hypocrite).

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Postscript: The only other activity I have found as gratifying as (if not more than) making love, is making music, so it’s easy to understand why the opening line of Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night describes music as “the food of love.” But alas, the nexus between food and love often manifests in mildly cynical songs (written in my youth) like Strange Flesh and Black Widow.

Wednesday, June 3, 2020

GOD & RELIGION ~ From Confusion to Fusion (repost)

"DO YOU BELIEVE IN GOD?" I get asked this question quite often. But it isn't very often that the enquirer has the patience or the time to stay around for my response, which involves deconstructing the unquestioned assumptions of conceptual semantics. As far as I know nobody has ever come up with a definition of "God" acceptable to all.

The notion that the physical universe was created by an all-knowing, all-powerful, ubiquitously existing Maker is fairly common, especially among the more conservative, more traditional - and therefore less adventurous - thinkers.

When I gaze upon any object - be it a butterfly, a banana, or a blossom - it doesn't occur to me that some humanoid with deft hands wielding clever tools actually sat down at a workbench one morning and fabricated  these wondrous forms that are able to self-replicate and perpetuate their own species, ad infinitum.

I'm more inclined to admire the hidden geometries, complex architecture, and ingenious mechanisms underlying these forms which are also discernible in other forms that constitute our physical environment. A healthy appreciation for the miraculous nature of all forms ultimately leads one to focus on the mystery that is oneself.

For each of us is every bit as amazingly designed and constructed as a grasshopper or dungbeetle or seahorse or giraffe or walrus or duckbill platypus or an entire coral reef. The interlocking biochemistries and interwoven electromagnetic patterns that give rise to living forms are at once complex and simple.


Inevitably, one is compelled to marvel at the breakthrough discoveries in recent decades of the fractal nature of the holographic universe - and the curious effect that consciousness appears to have on how it evolves and mutates. It is, indeed, as cutting-edge physicists declare, "an observer-created universe."

Pioneering researchers have detected micro-macro consonances between the subatomic and the supergalactic realms, wherein the essential architecture of a single atom is echoed in that of a galaxy. This fact alone ought to qualify as a theophany that can yield an endless quantity of eureka moments - enough at any rate to induce an ecstatic vision in anyone who spontaneously comprehends the divinity and perfection of all that exists.


You could call this approach to answering the age-old question of God's existence (or otherwise) the way of the mystic-scientist. It's not dependent on culturally or genetically implanted beliefs or on faith. Rather, it is a metaconceptual gestalt formed from free associating a random sequence of sensory inputs with a variety of analogies drawn from personal experience as well as what C.G. Jung called the Collective Unconscious.

Anyone who has, by chance or design, embarked on the quest for meaning and significance must pay attention to signs, omens, auditory, visual and perceptual clues left as a legacy by thousands upon thousands of conscious thinkers who lived and died and whose insights were recorded externally in the form of artefacts - or internally through subtle alterations of the chromosomal data banks.

Each new pilgrim on the journey towards enlightenment will have a unique experience, though universal truths have a habit of recurring like strangely familiar motifs. In effect, any authentic attempt to grapple with the question of God is necessarily an individual process. Other people's narratives of "divine revelation" most certainly constitute a valuable reference - but they can never be a substitute for direct knowing, distilled from unique, personal experience.


This is why at an early age I found myself unsubscribing from prescribed belief systems passed down the generations. All the conflicting doctrines that constitute man-made religion serve merely to anesthetize the masses against the anguish of fully accepting our human limitations, in order that we might ultimately transcend them.


Religions are packaged and processed forms of accumulated mystical insight; and although there will always be precious glimmers of truth to be found in the crude ore of inherited or acquired beliefs, the unthinking and unquestioning acceptance of these dogmas is akin to condemning oneself to a lifelong diet of junk food bought off the shelves of a cosmic convenience store.

To visualize God as an eternal parent figure is to forever infantilize our apprehension of reality in simplistic terms of Good and Evil, Right and Wrong. These opposite polarities represent extreme ends of the moral spectrum; but as the sum-total of all existence, God embodies the entire spectrum of possibilities and is therefore beyond categorization and classification. In analogous terms, God is not just the Father but also the Mother and  the Child borne of their primordial union.

In ancient days when the majority of humans were illiterate, an elite corps of Scribes arose that took it upon themselves to interpret on behalf of the others what was purportedly the Word of God. This special breed of human we call the Priesthood. In India the priests established themselves as the Brahmin caste and exalted themselves above the ordinary folk.

An effective division of labor developed wherein the priestly caste collaborated with the kingly caste to form the earliest governments. The priests took on responsibility for the spiritual affairs of men while the kings ruled over the material domain, as evidenced in the political pact between the Bishop of Rome and the Emperor Constantine.

In the Book of Exodus we saw the same partnership in action with the brothers Aaron and Moses: Aaron took charge of administrative and logistical matters, while Moses played the role of divine visionary, receiving direct instructions from on high.

To this day the Mormon church classifies its membership as either of the Aaronic or the Melchizedek lineage. Those of the Aaronic Order undertake the day-to-day management of church affairs, like the raising of funds and the construction of temples; and those of the Melchizedek Order propagate the spiritual message of the founder, Joseph Smith, who received his revelation through an angelic messenger named Moroni.

What I'm waffling on about, then, is the sheer futility of identifying oneself with any particular religious doctrine. Our understanding of life matures with experience - or, at least, it ought to. It's fine to believe in Santa Claus when you're five years old and thrilled to bits at the prospect of finding a stack of prettily giftwrapped presents under the Christmas tree. However, by the time you're fifteen, you really ought to have realized that the fat guy in a red suit is actually your own dad - or some guy hired by the department store to lure kids and their parents into a ritual shopping spree.

I'm not going to denounce or deconstruct all the institutionalized religions in our midst. It's generally a waste of breath anyway. Many people cling desperately to their beliefs because they fear the bottomless abyss of uncertainty. Some will violently strike out at or even kill anyone who attempts to shatter their faith or so much as joke about it.

With some folks, loyalty to the faith into which they happened to be born can be even stronger and more fanatical than their loyalty to a favorite soccer team. Just as there are soccer hooligans at every game, you will encounter violent mobs of the religiously intoxicated. Best to stay clear of them rather than attempt to engage them in rational discourse.

These mobs constitute what you might term the bottom rung of consciousness. Everybody goes through such a phase - though many today express their fanatical urges via ardent hero-worship of a particular popstar or screen actor. Left to their own devices, most people eventually outgrow these obsessions.

I'm absolutely convinced that Malaysians of all creeds will co-exist in sweet harmony when jingoistic politicians stop stirring up the shit. Is there any way we can compel them to cease their pseudo-religious rabble-rousing? None that I can think of, short of maintaining some barbaric law like the ISA for exclusive use against those who exploit racial and religious differences for their own political advantage.

Nevertheless, I don't advocate such quick-fix methods. Censorship of any kind is anathema to me. I'm utterly convinced that when people are regularly exposed to all kinds of ideas - no matter how lunatic or extreme - they will swiftly learn to discern what's palatable and what's poisonous in the way of opinions.

So, instead, of cringing at the absurd utterances of rabid religious reactionaries, all we really have to do is ignore them. And, if they refuse to stop after a decent interval, we could simply pull the plug on them, switch off their microphones, so to speak. That harms nobody at all - and they will eventually fall silent when their voices grow hoarse from shouting at the wind.

And in that brief silence the first seeds of wisdom just might germinate.


[First posted as "Where Malaysia Is Headed (Part 5)" on 18 April 2009; reposted 14 June 2014]

Friday, May 29, 2020

Megalomania, Hubris & Tyranny (revisited)

The Family of  French monarch Louis XIV by Jean Nocret

Along with neocortical brain functions and “higher intelligence” comes a more acutely defined sense of individualized ego and self-importance.

Add to this an obscenely bulging bank account with which to buy political clout... and you begin to get a glimpse of the sort of megalomania that embarks upon Master-of-the-Universe programs spanning generations - the ultimate aim being to exercise absolute control over the brainwashed masses, whose very existence is tolerated insofar as it serves as a source of energy and entertainment for an exclusive and privileged elite.

Does this sound like a description of the Olympian Gods of Greek mythology? Well, consider the distinct possibility that these so-called gods were not at all “mythical” - that they, in fact, operate as a secret government of unseen puppetmasters behind the visible governments of the world and that they have mastered the art of molding public opinion and perceptions by manufacturing and packaging The News for planetwide consumption.

Here in Malaysia we have our own wannabe Masters of the Universe too (Malaysia Boleh lah). They can skim any amount of cash off the national treasury without being held accountable and create colossal megaprojects from which gigantic "commissions" are generated. When questioned, a simple denial is good enough - since nobody dares to investigate and those with the authority to do so are already in their pockets.

RM800 million commissions from murky multi-billion ringgit arms deals? RM42 billion slush fund scam exposed by the Zionist press? No problem. If Lim Kit Siang demands an explanation, just get a lackey in a monkey suit to say, "Everything aboveboard! You try to topple the government, we arrest!"

Problem arises with one of the partners in some shady business and she comes knocking on your office door? Rosie will ring for service and get the messy situation taken care of by loyal servants expert at disappearing problematic individuals.


The riff-raff who read Malaysiakini raising a huge stink? No problem, convene a press conference and declare: "Nothing happened!" Then quickly buy enough nominations to put Pink Lips in the lead as party president and soon... ha ha... semua kautim!

In one elegant move, the dangerous mass movement towards Ketuanan Rakyat can be nipped in the bud (or zapped in the butt) and everything will go back to business-as-usual.

The Retired Despot will escape serious investigation for all his terrible crimes against decency and good governance... and Tun Daim Zainuddin can go shopping for a healthy young sexy body and become immortal!

But therein lies the rub. Immortality isn't something that can be bought, stolen or accomplished through advanced technology.

Immortality is bestowed upon those with molecular integrity and nobility of consciousness - unique qualities in harmonic resonance with Source Energy. Nobody can fake this. Usurpers of kingly or queenly thrones cannot activate their own crown chakras unless their genetics carry specific chromatic frequencies - and so they settle for fancy headgear embedded with sparkling jewels. Who are they fooling - if not, ultimately, themselves?
 

[First posted 2 December 2008, reposted 18 July 2015 & 12 July 2019]

Tuesday, May 26, 2020

Warp & Woof ~ an unpublished chapter from "Tanah Tujuh" (repost)

The Orang Asli are certainly not alone in “remembering” that many of the imbalances in the world today stem from a series of cosmic-scale catastrophes in the planet's traumatic past. Nor are they the only ones who portray the guardian at the portal of death as a dog. The Egyptians depicted their guide to the underworld as a dog-headed god, Anubis. (And the Greeks called their god of the dead, Pluto, which Walt Disney turned into a cartoon canine).

Speaking of dogs: Sirius, also known as the Dog Star, is in the constellation Canis Major. Now: why would a West African tribe called the Dogon (a contraction of Doggone, perhaps?) residing near Timbuktu, in the Republic of Mali, know so much about the Dog Star? Dogon starlore features prominently in The Sirius Mystery, a 1976 study by Robert Temple, which reports that the gods of Dogon legends originated from Sirius.
Temple was amazed to learn that the Dogon chiefs were able to sketch star maps showing the orbital paths of both Sirius A and Sirius B (its dwarf companion whose existence was first reported in 1844 by the German astronomer Friedrich W. Bessel but wasn't “officially confirmed” until as recently as 1970).

According to ethnographic studies conducted with the Dogon, their tribal elders had known about their Sirius connection for at least 700 years. Their explanation was simple: a Sirian spaceship had landed in the desert, dug a deep hole, and filled it with water. Out of the ship had emerged some dolphin-like beings - who jumped into the artificial lake and began trading cosmic gossip with the Dogon witch doctors.

My own theory is that Nibiru was once a planet of Sirius B - before the star imploded and became a dense dwarf, Somehow the Nibiruans managed to steer their planetary spaceship out of harm's way - but found themselves “gatecrashing” our Solar System. Captured by the Sun's gravitational field, Nibiru bumped into a few other celestial bodies (causing unimaginable havoc) before ending up in a highly elliptical 3,600-year orbit (which takes the 4th-dimensional planet far out into Deep Space and back into the Solar System every 1,800 terrestrial years).

The Flower of Life – a modern mystery school founded by Drunvalo Melchizedek in the Hermetic tradition - teaches that Sirius A and Sirius B are linked to our Sun by an interdimensional portal or Stargate carrying a heavy traffic in cetacean intelligences. (Ea – also known as Enki, Poseidon, and Neptune - has traditionally been associated with the dolphins. The plot thickens. My own research indicates that the Earth connects Sirius with the Pleiadian Family, of which our Sun is a vital component. Tiamat - our planet's original name before the Catastrophe - means “Maiden of Life.” This is a significant clue to the ultimate purpose and destiny of Gaia, our beloved “Mother Earth.”)


Sirius - known to the Egyptians as Sept and to the Greeks as Sothis - was sacred to the great goddess Isis. When her husband-brother Osiris was murdered by their brother Set and despatched to the Underworld where he became Lord of the Dead, Isis managed to extract semen from her deceased husband (with a little help from ibis-headed Thoth, the Keeper of Arcane Mysteries) and conceived a son, the hawk-headed Horus. Osiris thence became the symbol of fertility and resurrection, while Horus took on the role of the Divine Child, personifying the New Aeon.

Thoth was known in Sumeria as Ningishzidda (“Lord of the Artifact of Life”). He was the younger son of Enki. (The controversial Zecharia Sitchin, for one, is convinced that Thoth was also worshiped in Peru as Viracocha, and in Mesoamerica as Kukulcan/Quetzalcoatl. This belief is supported by a very ancient document smuggled out of Peru in the 1920s, which has since been translated and published privately as The Emerald Tablets of Thoth the Atlantean by Doreal of the Brotherhood of the White Temple. Its contents are far too fantastic for it to be a forgery.

In Egypt, Thoth was sometimes called Tehuti (“Master of Balance”), son of Ptah. He is credited with the design and construction of the Great Pyramid (which he materialized from the 4th Dimension with the help of his brother Ra and a High Adept and former Atlantean King named Araaragot*). In Greece, Thoth was venerated as Hermes Trismegistos (“Thrice-Greatest”); he initiated Pythagoras into the mysteries through sacred geometry and the Kabbalah.

Isis and the Ape of Thoth
The Egyptians depicted Thoth with an ibis head to signify his patronage of precise knowledge and esoteric wisdom. They also associated him with the baboon - symbol of the genetic union of Dog and Ape (Sirius and the Earth). I have reason to believe that Thoth was actually the Adamic progeny of Enki/Ptah - pioneer god of primate gene-splicing - and perhaps the first human Adapa (Adept) to attain the secret of Immortality.

Thoth became Divine Archivist and Chronicler of Tanah Tujuh (The Seventh Planet) after he retired from an illustrious career as “Headmaster of the Enki'ite Mathemagickal Mystery School.” In the light of this, Drunvalo couldn't have found a better mentor than Thoth the Atlantean. Thoth had made initial psychic contact with him in 1972 and then “disappeared” - after scrutinizing his candidacy. Drunvalo and Thoth established a two-way communication link on November 1st 1984, which was operational till May 4th 1991, when Thoth finally departed Earth with a group of Immortal Masters - having served as a tutelary god to humanity for 52,000 years (which is, after all, only 14.44 Nibiruan years).

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* Ra (the Sun God) subsequently seized power in Egypt, displacing his brother Thoth (the Moon God), who then went into South American exile and became a cult figure. Meanwhile, Araaragot was preoccupied with establishing the Trans-Himalayan Brotherhood in Shamballa. The Age of Aries was heralded by Ra's disappearance from Egypt (where he became known as Amen-Ra or “Ra the Unseen”) and subsequent re-appearance in Babylon as its national god, Marduk (“God of Gods”), circa 2024 B.C. This power struggle between the younger Enlilite and Enki'ite gods precipitated an atomic war that effectively wiped out Sodom, Gomorrah, the Anunnaki spaceport in Sinai, and millions of people and livestock. Marduk decreed that Nibiru be henceforth called “Marduk” in all Babylonian texts.

[First posted 6 July 2012]



Sunday, May 24, 2020

APOCALYPSE OR EPIPHANY? (Updated & Reposted)

Something from the personal archive, written in January 2003 and published on this blog 2 December 2006; dusting it off now that 17 years have elapsed...


Richard Dawkins, author of The God Delusion

Musings at the edge of eternity


The World of Appearances moves visibly towards a series of possible Apocalypses. Now as never before, I am doing all I can to maintain a clear focus on my innervision of heaven on earth – which does NOT include the triumph of Big Brotherism in some dystopic New World Order Fourth Reich!

Eight years after Galactic Alignment (read John Major Jenkins’s 'Maya Cosmogenesis 2012' for the mind-boggling details), massive shifts in consciousness and spiritual maturity have brought about a rapid meltdown of dysfunctional institutions and societies.

All that was mechanical and regimented has abruptly run out of political charge. However, the “princes and principalities” won’t surrender without a desperate fight, in the vain hope that they can drag everyone else down with them by creating Hell on Earth.

However, Mother Earth herself will no longer support their piratic (and parasitic) adventures as she attains to full awakening. Those governed by fear and greed and trapped in egocentric skepticism will be subject to their own Twilight-of-the-Gods (Ragnarok) scenario – despite all efforts to help them experience a paradigm shift. The rest of us will bear witness as self-governing sovereign entities to the birth of a New Octave of Consciousness wherein beauty and truth will replace money and military might as focal points of endeavor.

(All this won’t happen in 2020 itself, but this is a pivotal year in which each incarnate soul will consciously cross a threshold, towards true individual freedom or deeper enslavement in the Matrix.)

But what happens to all the encrusted egos hellbent on keeping the Duality Scam going? The Fearmongers, Virus designers, Control Freaks and Vaccine pushers - trading in terror and scarcity conditioning, clinging tenaciously to ancestral privilege or ruthless ambition - are they a nightmarish mass delusion that’s absolutely no concern of mine?

I can see bits of myself embedded in these primitive programs going by descriptions like Neo-Darwinism. Survival of the Fittest, indeed. How is “fit” defined? The ones gifted at making money, or the ones with universal empathy? Is it possible to accumulate wealth as measured by consensus – and still feel a tender compassion for all life?

The way I see it: since I already feel oceanic ripples of deep affection for All That Is, I need only gain access to unlimited wealth to be in a position to answer that question truthfully. 

It’s easy to dismiss money as a spurious concoction of the banking fraternity, but so long as it’s in use, I’d love to have a huge pile fall in my lap. I could play patron of the arts, sponsoring the juicy dreams of a few visionary playwrights and filmmakers... remix some sonic dreamscapes I recorded some thirty years ago... set up a string of self-sufficient Earthship communities... visit old friends in Europe... lounge around on a Thai island for weeks... or just continue to do what I've been doing since I quit my last full-time job in 1977, that is, exactly what I damn well please, but on a vastly more comfortable scale.

How about The Vision? Well, it’s all part of it. My definition of Heaven: infinite possibilities (where merely knowing that every desire can be fulfilled is enough). Hell, of course, is utter impossibility (where the woman who excites me most begrudges even a smile).


Do I envisage a Vegetarian Future?

It’s not what we do, it’s how we do it that changes the essential equations. Having lived amongst hunter-gatherers who generally prefer to get their protein by fishing and snaring wild game, and who are content to subsist on tapioca leaves and dried anchovies the rest of the time, I’d be glad to see an end to commercial exploitation of the animal and vegetable kingdoms. It’s not meat-eating, per se, that constitutes a problem – it’s industrial farming methods that treat other lifeforms as mere commodities to be processed and sold which greatly saddens my soul.

Times when my atoms were oscillating at close to light speed, I have been able to sustain myself for days on prana and photons – which is why I’m sympathetic to breatharians, though I lack the ascetic impulse to wilfully embark on such a course. I eat to live as a matter of habit, and I bless and enjoy whatever’s on my plate. Food is NOT the issue. Famine is invariably the unhappy result of ecocidal human activities driven by scarcity conditioning. The fact that “developed” countries have problems with anorexia AND obesity reflects a deep spiritual imbalance.

Speaking of food, I received an internet joke some years ago with a timely teaching. It’s called “God’s Test”:

God put the angels and the devils to a test. He set up a huge banquet hall with a wonderful feast. First He invited the devils to the feast. They were delighted until they found out that they couldn't bend their arms at the elbows! How were they to eat all the delicious food when their hands wouldn't go to their mouths? They tried eating off the plate, which was messy and undignified. They tried throwing the food in the air and catching it in their mouths. Nothing worked very well. After 15 minutes of this mayhem, God told them that time was up. They trooped out cursing Him.

Next, He invited the angels into the hall. A fresh feast was laid out, and the same thing happened - they couldn't bend their arms at the elbows. The angels all looked at each other and burst out laughing. "What a great game!" they said as they fed each other.

If you happen to be an atheist - don’t worry, so is God. In 2020 I’ve decided to revert to my original name. From now on, don’t call me Antares – “All That Is” will do.

Just kidding, folks. I have enough problems trying to cash cheques as “Antares” (not that I anticipate receiving any, now that 99% of financial transactions are done online).

© Antares, January 2003 (updated October 2005, February 2010, August 2013 & May 2020)




Alan Watts & Terence McKenna on our need for a Sense of Unity (reprise)



Published on 3 March 2013

Alan Watts and Terence McKenna talk about our need for a sense of unity as our global problems are getting worse and we have become enemies of our planet and each other.

Music: Carbon Based Lifeforms - Comsat (Hydroponic Garden - 2003 [Ultimae Records])

First speech: Alan Watts - The Nature Of Consciousness
Second speech: Terence McKenna - MAPS conference - 1990
Third speech: Terence McKenna - Eros And Eschaton - 1994

Footage:
Some Strange Things Are Happening To Astronauts Returning To Earth (Vimeo video)
BBC - Secret Life Of Chaos (Documentary)
Tree Of Life (Movie)
An artwork by Cameron Gray (~ 1:41)
Baraka (Documentary)
Home (Documentary)
History Of Human Thinking (YouTube video)
The Fountain (Movie)

All of the above are very much recommended to all of you who enjoyed the video.

[First posted 1 August 2019]

Wednesday, May 20, 2020

AN EPILOGUE OF SORTS (reprise)


The quick brown fox of intuition
jumps over the lazy dog of intellect.
In the cavern, shadows gather round the stew
or huddle in crannies (but only on weekends)
to hear Platonic oratorios rendered inoffensively
by descendants of Aristotle and his Orchestra of
Broken Winds.

The flatulent frog of financial success
hops over the fraudulent toad of commercial excess,
Leaving a definite whiff of death and decay.
The dead red bleeds through a yellow flag
into the deep blue of oceanic woe.
It’s only a nightmare of carnival ponyrides
driven by the slave power of wild horses
captured in their sleep.

I wake up to the green tones of birds and squirrels
trying to hold back the afternoon.
Morning is too short and the nights are too long.
With rings under their eyes and through their flaming
nostrils, froth on their lips and electrode scars
on their skulls, the foreign legionnaires of the insane
shriek through the streets:
“UNPLUG THE JUGGERNAUT!”
But their thin voices are drowned by the traffic.

I watch from the tower safe behind glass
and the sight of a crawling humanity turns my reality
into a desperately dull movie with only one redeeming
feature: there are no credits
and all the blame goes to no one
except us.

Yes, US. Because we are too busy with our hands
to bother thinking what kind of world we are making
with our minds.

So we leave it all to the Experts.
Whose minds are not their own anyway,
since nobody gets to be an expert who won’t surrender
his soul to Mammon & Moloch. And an entire pantheon of
pathetically false gods, worshiped neither by animal
nor vegetable nor mineral –
only by a benighted humanity half-awake to itself,
half-asleep in pajamas of scientific concupiscence,
abusing itself in fear and guilt,
never knowing ecstasy.


[Written in 1976. First posted 16 January 2007]

MORE POEMS IN MOTH BALLS (PUBLISHED 1994)

Saturday, May 16, 2020

Escape from the Labyrinth (repost)

An Open Letter to Homo saps, c/o The WorldWideWeb (and to my West Essex High School chum, David George White, who inspired this!)

WHY do people think they need to have their heads shrunk when what they actually want is to have their minds expanded?

My response to psychiatry: if you really want to shrink heads, go back a hundred years to Borneo, where it was a noble tradition amongst Iban warriors, not just another lucrative priestly profession.

So I’m going to tell you a little about my crazy adventures in the labyrinth of consciousness. How I met and befriended the Minotaur and named him Chief Shitting Bull. You can imagine the mountains of manure accumulated over the aeons.

Flossofy is a load of bullshit, I can almost hear my transgendered virtual shaman friend Sha’Tara quip. I’m into goddesses myself. And to the ecofeminist in me bullshit’s the same as cowdung - a useful source of fuel, fertilizer, wall-filling, and psychedelic fungi. My aunt Hathor, the cowfaced Egyptian goddess, taught me everything I know about the Milky Way.

I’m doing this for myself and for you, Dave. When the Maya meet they greet each other: “In Lak’ech!” I am another yourself. Let’s see if life improves when I start addressing you as another aspect of myself. The aspect that can’t help ratiocinating. I’ll present myself as the aspect that hasn’t stopped hallucinating. No email smiley, but I’m sure your well-honed sense of irony will feel right at home here.

UPON returning from my eventful year in the US, I wasted no time getting laid. We did it in the White House (that was the name of the Chinese hotel in Singapore I selected for our tryst). White features prominently in the story. My first real fuck and I became a father at 19.

But the real turning point was on Christmas Day, 1968, when I borrowed my brother’s 250cc BSA and took my de facto wife for a spin – literally! A car abruptly made a turn as we were overtaking it. I remember the sensation of flying through the air, suspended in eternity, and then landing on soft grass and springing almost instantly to my feet to check on my wife who was four months pregnant. To my relief she regained consciousness after a few seconds and it seemed like neither of us was hurt, only badly shaken. Someone drove us to the nearby hospital just in case, and it was a couple of hours later that I found the strange wound on my back - two circular burn marks along my spine about eight inches above the bum and an inch apart. Couldn’t figure out how I’d sustained that injury, but it didn’t hurt and healed within a day, though tiny scars are still visible.

It took me twenty years to find a funky twist to that incident. In a parallel universe, a teenaged father-to-be died in a motorcycle accident 13 days before his 19th birthday. However, on this time-track, the kid spent the next 15 months integrating a totally new personality. From my parents’ perspective, the “psychotic” episode was triggered by a combination of factors: the life-changing experience of watching the birth of my first daughter in May 1969, two weeks after bloody mayhem broke out in the streets of Kuala Lumpur (a safe distance from Batu Pahat, my hometown in the south); and then there was the heavy pot-smoking and listening for hours on headphones to psychedelic rock.

No wonder the kid flipped out and thought he was God, staying up nights, chanting “Om mani padme hum” like a mad monk in the streets, throwing away his pocket money (a sure sign of lunacy), forgetting to eat, watching the skies for dancing lights, chuckling spontaneously, announcing to friends and family that the kingdom of heaven was right here, pointing to pictures of Jesus and saying with a mischievous wink that he was back, don’t worry, everything’s perfectly okay now, everyone made it through the needle’s eye.

Another way of describing what happened is that my ego membrane dilated, became porous, and somehow the Cosmos seeped through my pre-programmed defences. I became everyone and everything around me. All faces, forms, and names were my own. Everything spoke to me: mineral, vegetable, animal, human, angelic, and beyond. A classic case of satori – I was absolutely ecstatic and never wanted to return to mundanity, the prosaic (Prozac?) state humans have been conditioned for countless generations to accept as “real.”

If I was inclined towards an open-minded agnosticism before this pivotal peak experience, I now embraced the Gnosis with my entire being. God the Father-Pater-Pattern took the omnipresent form of Electrons and Electricity, speaking the language of Light and Lightning. Goddess the Mother-Mater-Matrix was the entire Matter Universe, the insulation and the copper wire through which the masculine principle coursed, the finite, physical sheath for the metaphysical sword of infinite intelligence. She was the rain, the rivers, the ocean of bliss (and sorrow) within my cellular being. Their lovemaking created the eternal Yin and Yang, and I was born of the everchanging pulse of their majestic dance as Chronos, as Time; and simply through remembrance of my origins I could reconnect with Eternity.

All rather simplistic but it did the trick for me then. These days, the idea of God as electricity would immediately strike me as unrefined. What manifests as “electricity” is merely how we interact with it at our level of perception. My adopted grandfather, R. Buckminster Fuller, was fond of associating electricity with radiation and magnetism with gravity. But even so, we can never really grasp these notions with our very limited intellects and our even more limited vocabulary. It’s like trying to put your arms around a sequoia – it takes teamwork to do it, perhaps a dozen pairs of linked arms, depending on the girth of the tree. Attempting to intellectualize about the Mystery is doomed to futility – but we can have endless fun trying.

Still, at the time there was nothing I didn’t know, no memory beyond recall. Before the Big Bang, there I was. Micro, macro, and everything in between: subatomic and transgalactiic, immanent and transcendent, sublime and ridiculous, it was all just ME! The Mystery was really just My Story!

But WHAT or WHO am I???

I stood before mirrors gazing into the multitude of faces looking back at me. Was I the Planetary Logos? The Cosmic Christ? The Paraclete Incarnate? Words are inadequate, inaccurate, misleading. Human languages do fairly well within a specific range of experience, but as soon as we move into metaphysical zones, they invariably falter and fail. In any case, I was in an exalted state and my excited bioenergetic field was creating ripples of anxiety and incomprehension around me.

Interesting to note at this point: according to Bucky Fuller (pictured right), the PHYSICAL world in which we “normally” function represents less than 0.1% of the electromagnetic spectrum - more than 99.9% of which is what we call METAPHYSICAL, in effect, beyond the measurable range of our physical senses and scientific instruments.

Perhaps in India I would have been recognized instantly as an Avatar and a thriving ashram might have sprung up around me! But in middle-class, materialistic Malaysia, sharing space with well-meaning but utterly clueless parents whose Reader’s Digest worldview was suddenly confronted by an immortal spirit walking around in a 19-year-old body that resembled their youngest son, it was unequivocally decided that I was quite mad and in urgent need of psychiatric assistance. If I knew then what I now know – that I was actually a walk-in, and told them as much, they would have committed me all the same (okay, insert smiley here, if you like). You may ask, what the fuck is a “walk-in”? We’ll come back to this fascinating topic later (or you can click on the link and read about it).

The next three months was a fun-filled period of in-depth training in navigational skills. José Argüelles came out with an instructive and entertaining book called Surfers of the Zuvuya (Bear & Co, 1989) in which he recounts his interdimensional explorations. This is how Argüelles defines zuvuya:
“Zuvuya is the Mayan term for the big memory circuit. It is the memory hotline. It connects equally to the future as well as the past because it is an interdimensional thread. It is what fuels synchronicity , and consequently, it is the pipeline for magic.”
During my brief sojourn in the madhouse, I had weekly chats with a shrink named Edward Tan whom we shall call Dr ET. He was a smart cookie and knew he was on to a good thing – an articulate and self-aware inmate! Tried every which way to persuade me to extend my stay so he could use me for his personal research (an ambitious chap) but I told him no way, I’d completed my internship and was ready to be released. To please him, I agreed to address a panel of psychiatrists. Can’t remember everything I said, but I recall they were all suitably impressed. But, still, Dr ET wouldn’t relinquish his hold on me.

“You’re not well,” he intoned, “you may be highly intelligent and knowledgeable but you’re still schizophrenic. In fact, statistics show that a lot of intelligent people suffer from schizophrenia.”

“Of course I am!” I grinned. “EVERYBODY is schizophrenic. Only difference is that I KNOW we’re many different selves operating at different and occasionally overlapping frequencies. Okay, perhaps you could describe my condition as megalomania; but, then again, what is megalomania? Megalo means ‘great’ in Greek. So what’s wrong with knowing that I’m great? Truth is, everyone’s great – yes, even you! But we’ve been taught that it isn’t modest or polite to acknowledge our essential magnificence and vastness. We’ve been told that we’re lowly creatures, prone to seven deadly sins and whatnot, in desperate need of salvation. Hey, you’re Roman Catholic, aren’t you? So what’s that Star of David placemat doing on your desk?” [Dialogue reconstructed from memory and slightly embellished for dramatic effect.]

Dr ET absolutely insisted that I needed electro-shock therapy and made me sign a document of acquiescence. “Only then I’ll let you go home,” he smirked. I had no fear of electricity (‘E my Daddy after all), so I said okay, deal. The price I paid for my freedom was three shock treatments. They were painless – but what happened was that my synaptic connections were thrown into disarray. It was as though a thief had broken into my office and scattered the entire contents of my filing cabinet.

I vegetated for about four months afterwards, stuffing my face with peanuts, chestnuts and steamed corn-on-the-cob – and feeding my brain with at least 200 books. Finally I had enough of that existential limbo and applied for a job in advertising (not knowing it was just another brand of limbo), just so I could move out and move on. Decided to stay with my maternal aunt in Kuala Lumpur and, a few months later, took over her apartment when she moved to her own house. Lotus-Lily dropped out of university to join me in our humble nuclear family experiment. In late 1970, high on acid at a friend’s birthday party, our #2 daughter, Belle, was conceived. The few acid trips I took reinstated my earlier experience of Divine Madness and convinced me that it was precisely the state of consciousness sought after by alchemists, magicians, and shamans throughout the ages.

An English anarchist and dope-smuggler introduced me to psilocybin mushrooms in 1972. They were freely available at certain power spots and 100% laboratory-proof. Mushrooms, though milder and smoother, also have the effect of restoring my original state of God-consciousness. Other ways to reconnect with Source are through the ascetic-yogic path (which requires immense self-discipline and resolve, as I soon discovered when I was initiated into a Tantric warrior-monk cult called Anandamarga and turned vegetarian for all of three months); or in the company of others with exceptionally high-frequency bioenergetic fields.

Speaking of UHF bio-fields, I recently stumbled upon the astonishingly stimulating musings of the late Terence McKenna (author of The Archaic Revival: Speculations on Psychedelic Mushrooms, the Amazon, Virtual Reality, UFOs, Evolution, Shamanism, the Rebirth of the Goddess, and the End of History) whose eloquence is matched only by his elvish erudition. Last year, a Canadian internet friend sent me a set of 8 cassettes with McKenna rambling on about everything. Hard to find time to listen to it all at one go, but very good to have in the archives.

It took me twenty years to piece the puzzle back together. All this while I vividly remembered the delicious sensation of cosmic bliss and all-knowingness – but couldn’t for the life of me figure out the hows and wherefores of perfect ease and total ecstasy. What was it that had (in 1969) made me believe heaven on earth wasn’t merely possible, but was actually just around the bend (pardon the pun)?

In 1989 I met Mary Maguire at the launch of my first book and within a couple of weeks we had become firm friends and companions-in-lunacy and reincarnational research. Mary is Irish and witchily so, down to her flaming red mane now turning grey (which she religiously dyes every month). We soon became acutely aware that the Dark Side was no longer in outright control of the Earth (not since 1987) – but it wasn’t about to let go of its grim outlook and surrender to joy. At least not without a last, all-out, desperate effort to clamp down on a fast awakening humanity.

The Dark Side, as it turns out, was the aspect of ourselves that had suffered extreme disillusionment and pain when it felt abandoned by Mummy and Daddy, shortly after inserting itself into the dense world of physical form and experiencing complete amnesia. To block out the pain it had armored itself within a crustacean ego – and learned to minimize its emotional responses to the extent that it appeared to be utterly devoid of empathy and incapable of compassion.



LET’S back up a little, as I’m racing ahead of myself. What transpired when Mary Maguire and I reconnected was a surge we both experienced in our bio-fields. It wasn’t sexual, though for a while we were lovers (indeed, we did it on our very first date, both of us agreeing it was best to deal immediately with the erotic tension and get down to the real fun, which was just to hang out together a lot and discuss everything under the sun). The synergetic effect of our unified bio-fields significantly increased our neural voltage and all it took was a third coordinate to lift us to a whole new level of awareness.

The Third Man wasn’t Harry Lime, but a Canadian Briton named Dave Cawson whom I had first met in Kathmandu around Christmas 1984. Dave is married to Shanthini Kandiah, a Malaysian whose father, it turned out, was once my dad’s colleague and drinking partner, yup, small world. The Cawsons were somewhat nomadic at the time, going wherever there was cash to be made teaching English – but they returned sporadically to visit Shanthini’s folks. Anyway, with Dave, Mary and I linked once again on the physical plane, really extraordinary phenomena began to occur. I wrote a fairly detailed account of the pendulum and ouija experiments we conducted in November 1989.

Dave himself had had incredible experiences around 1971 when he was living in Red Deer, British Columbia. They were X-Files episodes not unlike my own in 1969. Subsequent research revealed that the years 1968-1971 were a supercharged period of cosmic initiations on this planet when the Christ consciousness grid was experimentally activated. As a result thousands, if not millions, around the world spontaneously turned on, tuned in, dropped out – or freaked out, claiming to be Jesus. Some might say this was an instance of benevolent ET intercession. Others might attribute it to a particularly turbulent and prolonged period of sunspot activity – not unlike what we’re experiencing at this writing.



There is a vast body of literature available that probably never crossed your path, considering that your personal interests and tastes would have led you down an entirely different path, but in case this communiqué arouses more than mere intellectual curiosity, I’ll mention some of the books that have helped me formulate and consolidate my perspectives.

Dane Rudhyar, who died in 1985 at the age of 90, is best described as a Renaissance Man who coined the term “holistic” – which has taken about 25 years to infiltrate the mainstream vocabulary. Rudhyar was best known as, strangely enough, an astrologer; but his crystalline intelligence made him an exceptional philosopher, psychologist, and transducer of esoteric knowledge into accessible language. Apart from that, he also painted geometric abstractions and composed intricately contemplative music. His numerous books, unfortunately, bear somewhat suspect titles like:

WE CAN BEGIN AGAIN - TOGETHER: A Re-evaluation of the Basic Concepts of Western Civilization in terms of an emergent Future for Mankind (Omen Communications Inc, 1974).

Even more suspect:

Occult Preparations for a New Age
(Quest Books, 1975)

Less suspect, but perhaps overly grandiose:

The Planetarization of Consciousness (Aurora Press, 1970)

Nevertheless, I found Rudhyar’s meticulous, occasionally ponderous writings of immense value in establishing a rigorous conceptual framework for my own cottonwoolly ecstatic visions. This was powerfully complemented by my exposure to R. Buckminster Fuller’s pioneering work in Whole Systems Theory and Energetics-Synergetics. My sceptical left brain received further reassurance in 1997 when I turned myself in for a 6-day experiential workshop called Flower of Life which was essentially a refresher course in evolutionary history covering 500,000 years of Earthtime.

Another visionary thinker and writer who bolstered my conceptual confidence was William Irwin Thompson (former historian at M.I.T.) whose Passages about Earth: An exploration of the new Planetary Culture (Rider & Company, 1975) was tremendously inspiring to me. Thompson founded the Lindisfarne Association, an alternative commune on Long Island based on the Esalen Institute at Big Sur and Hermann Hesse’s Castalia Foundation (of Glass Bead Game fame).

On a whole different imaginative tack, I was greatly impressed by Akhunaton the Extraterrestrial King (Frog Ltd, 1995) – a first novel by Daniel Blair Stewart whose far-out prophetic insights are being vindicated by the extremely weird twists in the present planetary plot.

However, the biggest mind-boggler I’ve encountered to date has to be THE MAYAN FACTOR: Path Beyond Technology by José Argüelles (Bear & Co, 1987). Argüelles also wrote and illustrated the equally astonishing EARTH ASCENDING (1984) but this isn’t one of his more accessible works; and THE ARCTURUS PROBE: Tales and Reports of an Ongoing Investigation (1996) sounds truly intriguing but is practically unreadable (though the illustrations are astounding). His latest effort, which I have yet to read, is TIME AND THE TECHNOSPHERE (Bear & Co, 2002, now available as a pdf download).

The extent of Argüelles’s commitment to his mission is demonstrated by his dropping completely out of academia (he received his PhD in Art History and Aesthetics in 1969) and changing his name to Valum Votan, Arcturian Minister. His wife Lloydine became Bolon Ik and they have been tirelessly campaigning for the World Thirteen Moon Calendar Change Peace Movement and the Planet Art Network (PAN). Their website contains paradigm-shattering information.

Now, how is any of this stuff relevant to the harsh and hellish geopolitical climate we now face - as Bush and his Cohorts brazenly frogmarch Homo saps towards the endgame scenario of our worst Orwellian nightmares and the nuclear winter of our ultimate discontent?

Allow me to quote at length from José Argüelles’s 1996 Update appended to a new edition of THE MAYAN FACTOR:
Since that halcyon era when Mr Gorbachev was more popular than George Bush, the world has taken a bad turn for the worse – or so it would seem. The materialist civilization critiqued by The Mayan Factor is now boldly stepping up its own apocalyptic demise and spinning out of control faster than it can rewire itself. What is going on? What comes next? 
Instead of breaking the chains with the past, the course of materialist civilization took a deadening turn. An unprecedented and unprincipled hegemony of world power had taken control, bringing on the dreaded ‘end times.’ This power play occurred in mid-1990, precisely the point at which the dialectic of history had dissolved in the rubble of what had been the Berlin Wall. When the phoenix of post-history should have been rising from the ashes of the Cold War, a sinister plot, long incubating, was calculatedly hatched and imperceptibly woven into the collective mind of the human race.
This plot was publicly disguised as George Bush’s ‘New World Order.’ It was originally conceived in 1974, when George Bush was the director of the CIA. The plot was dependent on the Russians being the first to throw in the towel. Once this occurred, the plot was set in motion. The Iraqi invasion of Kuwait on August 2, 1990, was the pretext. Within weeks, the G-7 (the group of seven most industrialized nations) held its first public meeting in sixteen years, i.e., since its inception as a covert operation by the CIA in 1974.
Five months of unprecedented brainwashing of the American public - and, via CNN, of the world at large – in preparation for Operation Desert Storm was the perfect screen for placing the G-7, and its policy of ‘monetary politics,’ at the helm of world political control. The G-7 was George Bush’s master plan. The success of the Gulf War and the acquiescence of the majority of the American public in this endeavor sealed the fate of the planet in an evil dumb-show in which the only option is enforced enslavement to an out-of-control machine.

With the dialectic of history over, the monolithic G-7 tyranny of monetary politics and its domination of the electronic media has created a visionless wasteland of monstrous proportions. Truly humanity appears to be settling for a fate in which it is little more than the sex organs of the machine. But these are the end times. From the point of view of The Mayan Factor, it is the end of time, of artificial machine time, of the time controlled by the twelve-month Gregorian calendar and the sixty-minute hour.

So there you have it. My conceptual development since 1968 in a nutcase, I mean, nutshell.

The reason – or rather, unreason – for my optimism has nothing whatsoever to do with current affairs - or rather, currant affairs. It has everything to do, however, with the spontaneous recall of my having “walked in” on the Malaysian Chinese lad named Lee Kit Fong on Christmas Day, 1968. This prompted an “identity crisis” which I ingeniously resolved by adding an ‘E’ to my family name, thereby openly declaring my intention to constantly reinvent myself.

I subsequently went through an amusing series of nominal transformations, acquiring eccentric appellations like Magruser Eeel (revealing an obsession with resurgence through a reversal of the Latin word resurgam); Avalokiteshvara (in Tibet the personification of Universal Compassion, masculine aspect of Kwan Yin, Goddess of Mercy); C.Y. Bernet (sardonically acknowledging my own bionicity or robothood); Michael Zodiac (an allusion to the Melchizedek Order of which I am a de facto member by dint of my lifelong absorption in mysticism, shamanism, and arcane research); even the rarely used Lee Bee Doh (in honor of my rampant gonads).

In 1992, while performing a star alignment meditation, I received my present galactic tag – Antares (in Chinese cosmogony, the Red Phoenix Star; in Hindu astronomy, Jyeshtha, the last portal souls have to pass through on their return journey to Source) - but it wasn’t till 1996 that I was prompted to go public with it. The impetus behind this was to consciously jettison the ballast of my personal past, my cultural and ethnic moorings, and set off anew for shores unknown.

Sometime in 1970 I had come across an unusual book called The Ultimate Frontier, by Richard Kieninger (founder of the Stelle Community based near Chicago). A mysterious “Dr White” appears to young Richard, gently initiating him into the Cosmic Secrets and revealing the occult influence on human affairs of the Great White Brotherhood and its shadowy counterpart, the Dark Lodge. That’s right, the archetypal duality of Good vs Evil (Judaism, Christianity, Islam), Ahuramazda vs Ahriman (Zoroastrianism), Yin vs Yang (Taoism).

The trick was to transcend bipartisan politics, dispense altogether with the “versus,” and transmute these polarities into symbiotic partnerships – in which event the Great White Brotherhood (eerily, the same initials as George W. Bush!) would act as an evolutionary accelerator, while the Dark Lodge would serve as the braking (breaking?) mechanism. Since those heady days, there has been an exponential increase in esoterica and spiritual literature, much of it saying the same old thing.

In 1997 I wrote a summary of the Flower of Life teachings and posted it in two parts: here and here.

Although I have since come to rely mostly on inner rather than outer authority – paying close attention to all belief systems but not taking on any as my own except when they resonate with direct experience – Drunvalo’s FOL material carries an undeniable fascination, if only for the complexity and scope of the information it encompasses.

I met a couple from Singapore (Heiko Niedermeyer and Selina Lau) in September 2001 who practise a form of deep emotional therapy called RELEASING. They invited me to a couple of weekend workshops and I found Releasing a pretty effective and painless way to clear out the inner circuitry. Sounds like you could use something like this to free yourself from the debilitating effects of emotional trauma.

Have you, by any chance, heard of or read Philip K. Dick’s Valis? You must, in any case, have heard of or even seen The Matrix, which hints heavily at some of the utterly bizarre reality options being played out right now on planet Earth.

HOLY SHIT, WE ARE ALL THE ONE! (Triple smiley)







Antares © 2002, first posted 8 May 2007, reposted 26 July 2016 & 28 November 2019]