Monday, November 18, 2019

a concise but accurate & comprehensive account of the universe


PART ONE

“The Universe?”

“The Universe.”

With the resounding vigor of an apoplectic horse, the portly priest blew his nose and tossed the soggy ball of tissue paper towards a handwoven rattan wastebasket. He missed, though this escaped his notice and, wiping the tip of his nose with the back of a pudgy hand, he said:

“You will please excuse my cold. Even we physicians of the soul are not exempt from viruses, ha ha!” The laugh came from his throat and his face was still red from the effort. “Ah… what was the question again?”

“I asked what your conception was of the Universe, Father.”

“Yes, yes… but, my son, I have no conception. I am merely God’s instrument. I serve no purpose but that which He has determined for me. If you ask me for a conception of the Universe, I can only tell you that which I have learned from reading God’s Word.”

“And what is that?”

The priest carefully pressed the tips of his fat fingers together: “The Universe is God’s masterpiece in harmony. Everything that exists is purposed by its Creator. It is the sum-total of His infinite wisdom.”

“That’s most lucid, Father.”

“Good. And may I add, my son, since God is perfect, the Universe is perfect, too.”

“Perfect? But, Father, I don’t quite see how.”

“Ah, but you are young, my son, and only a mortal. For the day you can understand God’s mysterious ways you will be more exalted than the angels.”

“Do you mean to say, Father, even flies and bacteria that cause disease have a purpose; that even an asteroid traveling endlessly in the void of deep space has a purpose?”

“You have an eager young mind, my son. That is good. But as I told you, God is omniscient! Nothing He creates is without purpose; only you might not see that purpose in this earthbound plane of existence.”

“Then even death has a purpose, Father?”

“Death, and the process that follows it, is the initial step towards the ultimate understanding of God’s Perfect Plan.”

“Are you saying there can be no purpose in life but only in death?”

“No, my son, no, no… One can always try to lead a good, Godfearing life in order that death may be accepted as an occasion for rejoicing rather than mourning. Life, my son, is part of the terrible test God our Father has set for us, and the only way you can show your love and devotion is to do well in that… at… at… atchoo!” A deafening sneeze drowned his last words.

The priest dried his bloodshot eyes on the sleeve of his satin surplice, sniffing noisily. “I am sorry, my son, um, where was I?”

“Oh, it’s quite all right, Father. I want to thank you for answering my questions. I was very impressed.”

"Of course, my son. I enjoyed chatting with you. By the way, I don’t recall seeing your face in my church. Are you by chance a Presbyterian, perhaps?”

“No, I’m a student.”

“Good, good, very good.” He sighed and stopped a sneeze by inhaling violently. “Well, my son, go with God.”

PART TWO

“The Universe, dear boy, can exist only when all the cosmic forces are in equilibrium.”

“I’m afraid I don’t quite comprehend, sir.”

“Ah, I see.” The wizened metaphysician curled his silver goatee around a thin, graceful finger. “Ah, I see, I see.”

There was an uneasy silence as the student waited for the great scholar to continue. The metaphysician was preoccupied with trying to tie a knot in his goatee.

“Er… what I mean is, sir, well, I don’t exactly see what you mean.”

“Let me put it this way, my dear boy.” A sudden spark appeared in the old scholar’s eyes. “The entire Universe functions on a very fundamental basis of balance. In everything you can detect the same pattern, from the ultra-microscopic to the super-telescopic.”

“Pattern?”

“Yes. Definitely. Existence is possible as a consequence of the equilibrium produced by conflicting forces: Life and Death, Light and Dark, Black and White, Abundance and Scarcity, Good and Evil, Truth and Falsehood, Happiness and Misery, Male and Female, Mountain and Valley, High and Low, Large and Small, Hot and Cold, Yin and Yang… can you perceive the pattern?”

“Well, yes… vaguely.”

“Can’t you see? It is the constant conflict of all those Forces that results in the balance essential to the very existence of the Universe. The ultimate aim of every single existence is to attain that perfect state of equilibrium – inertia! Yes, inertia! The very basis of being is a ceaseless struggle to attain inertia. Continuity, perpetuity, coiling and uncoiling. The completion of the circle. Inertia.”

The metaphysician broke off in a spasm of dry, convulsive coughs. When the attack was over he took a long sip from the glass of sherry on his desk, muttering an excuse that it was good for his cough. Clearing his throat, he continued:

“Can you not grasp the inexorable pattern that governs the Cosmos? Does it not overwhelm you to merely think about it?” He broke off, coughing again.

“Forgive me, dear boy, I am at a loss for words. I cannot help choking with fulfilment each time I see the vast intricacies of the Universe fall so effortlessly into one immense, awesome, sublime pattern…”

“This is certainly most fascinating, sir. But what exactly do you mean by inertia? Isn’t it a continual state of being?”

“You may call it that if you wish. You see, an object that is immobile wishes to remain so; one that is in motion is reluctant to change its course or to stop. Similarly, a person who is alive desires to remain so, but once death puts an end to his life, he has entered a new state of being – or non-being – and will desire to remain dead. And since death is, to all intents and purposes, continual, death is inertia.”

“You said that everything in the Universe strives for inertia. Do you mean that everything desires death?”

The metaphysician uncurled his goatee and allowed it to spring back to its original position. He scratched his chin, and a thin smile crept across his ascetic face. He coughed goodnaturedly.

“That, my dear boy, is a good question… however, I’m afraid I don’t feel at all my usual self and shall have to interrupt this absorbing dialogue, much to my regret, and get some badly needed rest.”


PART THREE

“When we speak of the Universe, we are of course referring to the lifeforms that occupy it, no?”

“Lifeforms?”

“The Universe is nothing without Life. So don’t you agree that in considering the Universe as a Whole…”

“As a hole? I don’t really follow you there, doctor.”

“Jcchk, I mean to say… instead of considering the Universe as an abstract concept, we might be better off discussing LIFE, per se, ja?”

“But how about the billions of lifeless stars and other celestial bodies that comprise the Universe? Don’t they matter?”

“Definitely. You are assuming, no doubt, that there is no life outside of the planet Earth. In the study of biology that could be a most misleading assumption. We must think of life in other forms besides those familiar to us, you see.”

“Yes, I see what you’re getting at.”

“So you understand what I mean when I say we should think of the Universe in terms of the lifeforms that inhabit it, am I correct? Okay, good. Now, everyone knows that survival is the greatest aim of all living things, no? Nothing exists if Life does not exist. Therefore, Life is the most important urge in the Universe. You will further observe that in order to preserve Life by perpetuating their species, all living things undergo reproduction of some sort; and then, to ensure the survival of their offspring, these living things die, so that there will be no lack of space and the cyclical regeneration of nutritive matter can occur. It is a neverending process which has gone on, and will go on and on infinitely. Life… then death… and life again as a result of death. Astounding, no?”

“Astounding, yes!”

Clucking affectionately, the biologist focused his microscope on a glass slide where an amoeba was wobbling along determinedly, trapped within a drop of fluid. “Ah, my little Mabel – she is a veritable miracle of unicellulation, ja?”

The student bent over the microscope to take a look.

“And yet,” the biologist went on, “she is the unique epitome of Life itself! She need never fear age nor senility, for she merely splits in two, then four, then eight. She knows no death… unless, of course, the water bubble she is swimming in evaporates without warning.”

He reached for a glass of drinking salts which had ceased effervescing; a powdery white precipitate lined its bottom. “I have the acid in my system,” he remarked. Then he licked his lips, made a face, and carried on:

“Alas! With multicellulation, complexity, and what we call evolutionary sophistication, death has entered the picture. No complex lifeform can expect to live indefinitely; and, the fact is, its struggle for survival benefits not itself but its offspring. And the same goes for its offspring: they fight to exist for the sake of their offspring, and so on. Sad but true, Life cannot be without Death. This is the Universal Paradox.”

The biologist seemed pleased with this statement, and gulped down the rest of his drinking salts without a grimace.

“I’m sorry, doctor, but I don’t believe I understood that last bit. What you said about life being an offshoot of death. Is that what you mean?”

“Life springs from death. Death springs from life. Ach, but who cares, after all, ja? We limit our consideration to Life only. That is a much brighter prospect, no?”

“Yes, I agree, but I’m still puzzled by what you said about there being no life without death…”

“Or no death without life, put it anyway you like. It is the same, I think.”

“Let us talk about your conception of death, then, doctor.”

“Ach, ach, no, no, no! Remember, biology is the study of living things. If you wish to know about death, consult a mortician, ha ha ha!”


PART FOUR

The Professor’s face was crimson. He wasn’t angry. He had high blood pressure, and everyone kept saying he ought to take a rest. But he was an obstinate old coot. “My work is more important,” he insisted. He was fond of defining and measuring the importance of things.

“Oh, good morning, Professor.”

“Yes, yes, good morning, if you say so. It’s much too humid for pleasantries.”

“Er, Professor, I’ve done the research. Here’s the paper I’ve written.”

“Ahhh. Your thesis. Let’s have a look… Hmmmmm, a little on the short side, I’m afraid." He shook the paper in the student's face and continued: “Short indeed! A long way from what one might classify as verbose, hmmm. Extraordinarily compact, in fact. Hmmmmm, let’s see…”

The student self-consciously lit a cigarette and tried not to notice the strange expression on the Professor’s face as he read the essay. But he couldn’t help observing that the old man’s face had reddened even more. He half expected the Professor to explode with something like: “This puerile jest fails to amuse me!”

However, the Professor was quite restrained, knowing how important it was to keep calm. His white, brittle hair stood out in stark contrast with his flushed face.

“Aha! Aha! What’s this? Quote: There is no Universe without Life. Life is a glass of wine and death the dregs that await at the bottom. The Universe is the wine, the dregs, the glass, the drinker, and the Thirsty Soul that oscillates between ecstasy and despondency, replenishing her vessel in perpetuity. Unquote…”

The Professor’s wry smile was almost humorous. “Which reminds me, “ he said, looking up from the essay and reaching for a bottle of port from the tray beside him. “May I offer you a tipple?”

The student politely declined, clearing his throat somewhat neurasthenically. He had a maniacal urge to leap out the window and get away from the Professor and his stuffy office.

“Life is a glass of wine, eh?” said the Professor, lifting the glass of port to his lips with a raised pinkie. He let out a weary sigh. “Rather interesting, I must admit. Even poetic, but I’m afraid rather inconclusive and vague, to say the least. Hmmmmm…”

The Professor turned the glass round in his heavily veined hand, absently studying the ruby liquid. “You have omitted a very important thing no essay should ever be without. You have not specified the essence of your concepts relative to your allegorical argument, and this seriously weakens your thesis.”

The Professor sighed again, as though in pain, and said, more softly now: “Body… and substance… that is what’s lacking. Rather inconclusive, I’m afraid.”

Then he gulped down the port, which ostensibly cheered him, for he looked up at the student and smiled his usual sanguine smile.


Text & Illustrations © Antares, 1967 & 2015

Joseph F. Martino, Jr in 1968
Joseph F. Martino, Jr (who studied Literature at Cornell under the tutelage of Vladimir Nabokov) taught creative writing at West Essex High School, New Jersey, in the 1960s. 

As a 17-year-old exchange student I happened to enrol in Joe's class in the fall of 1967 and this was my first attempt at a short story. It now comes across as a naïve and pretentious foray into the nebulous domains of epistemology and ontology, but since Joe very generously gave me an 'A' for it, I'll be brazen and publish it here for archival interest - and as a tribute to a truly dedicated mentor I shall never forget.

[First posted 23 August 2015, reposted 4 July 2017]

Sunday, November 17, 2019

ANNAPURNA ~ GODDESS OF PLENTY (432Hz)



I haven't made any videos is quite a while. My Panasonic DVC32 requires repair and I no longer have access to iMovie because my iBookG4 was officially retired in 2009.

So I downloaded Windows Movie Maker (inspired by my blogger buddy Paula Khoo's ventures into homemade videos) and, to explore the possibilities of this very basic program, I decided to make an unhurried music video using my 1985 composition (from the 2nd Coming album) as the soundtrack. But first I converted the overall pitch to 432Hz with GoldWave  - it doesn't sound much different to my ears, actually, but my intuition tells me the whole world will soon abandon the 440Hz tuning imposed on us by the Nazis and their Illuminati brethren, the Rockefellers. Perhaps this will happen in 2021?

In the process I discovered it's not much fun making glorified slideshows, still prefer to work with kinetic images. One of these days I'll test out my phone tripod, see if I can get back into shooting and editing videos. Meanwhile, just sit back with a nice cup of tea and relax to my humble offering with the audio turned up...

[First posted 27 November 2011]

Saturday, November 16, 2019

Behold the faceless corporate fascism of Facebook!

The Facebook Inquisition (source unknown)

Just as the calendar rolled into December 1st, 2017, I found myself locked out of Facebook (again!) for posting a link to a book review which happened to contain a slightly ribald but perfectly harmless image - actually very amusing and hardly as objectionable as the many hideously gory images I have seen on my newsfeed.

The censorship happened INSTANTLY (within two seconds of my clicking 'POST') and the psychological effect was akin to a heavily-armed balaclava-clad inquisitorial SWAT team breaking down your front door in the middle of the night (remember that classic Terry Gilliams movie Brazil?). It was a vivid reminder on so many levels of the crazy sci-fi timelines we are all navigating and have been, especially since the end of 2012, some transcendentally numinous and others starkly ominous.

In any case, for a few moments I contemplated the option of simply turning my back on Facebook and using this as an excuse to finally detach from this artificial sense of community we have grown so attached to over the years (it's true there are so many positive features of digital interconnectivity and being part of special-focus Facebook groups, not to mention the comforting sense of being virtually in touch with everyone even if close encounters have become more difficult to manifest).

Then I realized that in actual fact nothing at all had happened. I could simply take a badly needed 4-week vacation from the Facebook Universe or I could get back in with my wife Anoora's account (which I manage, so what if she doesn't have the massive network I enjoy as Antares). As my initial sense of outrage and intense annoyance subsided I became aware that I was in a very strange place - between nowhere and everywhere, between being fully immersed in the hurly-burly world and feeling completely indifferent to any or all outcomes. Sort of like watching a football game on the screen and not bothering which team wins because I have no loyalty to any football club.

21st Century Cyber-Emperor Marcus Zuckerbergus
This can be placed in the general context of my current perspective on everything: I'm tracking developments on many different levels - from energetically supporting the anchoring of the Totally New and Unknown (as is occurring in countless spiritually conscious communities and networks everywhere) to keeping a close eye on the factional warfare that has broken out among the old-school control freaks (whether you call them the Khazarian banksters or Yahwehists or the virus-infected Zombie Apocalypse and the covert agents that have hitherto served as foot-soldiers of the so-called Military-Industrial-Financial-Academic-Religious Complex).

Although essentially an eternal optimist - and all the positive signs are to be found in the growing number of rapidly awakening, self-governing humans I have become increasingly aware of since the advent of the internet - I realize at the same time that the rot may be already too deep for the gentle transition all of us have worked towards; that the sheer inertia of our entrenched habits could be setting up too much resistance for radical transmutation to happen smoothly and painlessly.

And we have witnessed in just the last 6 months how unpredictably aggressive the elements can be when unleashed upon puny human aspirations. Fire, Water, Air or Earth can so easily erase all our fondest dreams built upon countless lifetimes - within hours, even minutes. So as we enter the final months of 2019, all I can say is: "Phew! ... we made it through all the bumpy patches so far ... and each time we successfully navigate the wild weather and scary waves and emerge intact, we gain so much more experience, expertise and maturity as individuals and as a species. It's a good time to relax and not feel so driven, perhaps? Maybe it's true that getting there is what it's actually about, not arriving?

[First posted 3 December 2017]

Sunday, November 10, 2019

CLEARING THE CHANNELS (updated & reposted)

Fall of the Berlin Wall, 1989

Robert Graves
PRECISELY WHEN IT ALL STARTED is worth putting on the record. It was around 0320 hours Kuala Lumpur time, 10th November, 1989. In Berlin it would have been approximately 2020 hours, November 9th. Just about the time The Wall was being dismantled.

What happened to me and my friend Mary Maguire at that particular time could be called a transdimensional breakthrough. I know it sounds rather pompous,  considering how silly the entire exercise might appear to certain people.

What were we doing? Fooling around with a what? A ouija board. And who did you say contacted you? Robert Graves. Which Robert Graves? The famous poet, scholar and author? The man who wrote The White Goddess and I, Claudius and Claudius the God?

Ha ha, nice try.


Look, I'm not in the habit of attending seances, reading tea leaves, or playing with ouija boards. And until this thing happened I didn't even know who Robert Graves was. Nor had I read any of his books or poems, believe it or not.

Hmmmm...

Arthur Koestler
That's a perfectly understandable response. This is the Age of the Mighty Microchip. We don’t burn witches anymore. The Ghost In The Machine? Isn't that the name of a Police album? Well, it's also the title of an Arthur Koestler book I never got round to reading. But I always liked the image it conjured. As a young man I was greatly stimulated by Koestler. When he turned, in his later years, to parapsychological research I was pleased. Here was an intellect of undeniable probity and precision lending itself to serious investigation of the more mystical areas of metaphysics. It could only signal one thing: that the mind of contemporary man was undergoing a shift from the red end of the energy spectrum to the blue. In Koestler's own terms: from the Commissar back to the Yogi.

Events in Europe since November 1989 have borne out this spectrum shift. Witness the dramatic transfiguration of the sociopolitical status quo in what used to be called the Soviet bloc. For humanity as a whole, however, the blue-shift toward spiritual reintegration has not been progressing smoothly. The collective consciousness of most industrial nations remains stubbornly mired in the intellectual materialism that has engendered varying degrees of concealed totalitarianism. In far too many instances the primitive hostility and obscurantism which springs from Fear still rules the imaginations of influential men and women who rule the hearts and minds of entire populations.

Now you may ask: what has this to do with ouija boards and posthumous dialogues with famous poets?

I have long been convinced that all brutishness, greed, malice and deceit stem from assorted fears - and all fears ultimately arise from Fear of the Unknown. And the Ultimate Unknown is Death.


The “Godfearing" fear God's punishment: everlasting death. In view of this I have - like any civilized soul - assiduously practised the overcoming of my own thanatophobia. My fear of death, in other words.

But it is one thing to confront the evident inevitability of physical death on a purely conceptual level - and quite another to find yourself enjoying a cup of tea and a friendly chat with someone who allegedly expired several years ago. Anyone who has experienced something like this stands a good chance of acquiring fearlessness.

Let me try and explain how these transdimensional dialogues with "Robert Graves"* came about. When "Robert" broke through on the ouija board he seemed to have been drawn to the scene by Mary's presence. Before the session with the board Mary had been reclining on a couch. "Robert" mentioned that she had reminded him of someone he used to know, someone named Eddie: a pensive and languid lad of 19 who - heartbroken with jealousy - had drowned himself in a pond.

"Robert" also reported that he was attracted to my thought-field which he described as "friendly." After about an hour of conversing via the board (with astonishing fluency, I must add) I intuited that Mary and "Robert" were sufficiently attuned to one another's mental frequency for her to attempt direct channeling with pen and paper.

Robert Graves with his muse in Deya, Mallorca 
Mary had had no prior experience with the process called automatic writing (I personally prefer the term spontaneous writing) – but she took to it with remarkable ease. Looking over her shoulder as she worked, I was struck by her aura of secretarial efficiency. The erratic spelling and non-existent punctuation were all hers - but the substance and syntax were clearly emanating from a mysterious source. Whenever I wanted to comment on something or ask a question, I would verbalize it as if addressing a presence in the room. I also tried directing questions at "Robert" telepathically - but the results were unpredictable and inconsistent. Later, as I developed the ability to "channel" I found it unnecessary to vocalize my thoughts and questions.

My own initial attempts at channeling were a little "choppy" till I managed to relax completely and suspend all disbelief. The flow became smoother as I lost my self-consciousness and stopped wondering how much of it was "me." It's interesting to note that after "Robert" made the transition to an expanded frequency range I gradually took on Mary's role of "scribe"`and began to perform spontaneous writing exercises with greater regularity, to keep my neural pathways open.

Spontaneous writing is not unlike keeping a diary - but here the emphasis is on one's inner life. The act of opening the notebook and uncapping my pen seems to trigger a special circuit that plugs me into Inspiration at its source.

Perhaps it's a way of transmuting the contents of the sub- and superconscious into everyday Consciousness. In any case the process of letting "strange” signals flow through my brain and onto paper teaches me not to take the limits of my egoic existence too seriously.

I must include three other observations: (i) a degree of skill with translating thought into language definitely helps and both Mary and myself can lay claim to being writers of one species or another; (ii) both of us have dabbled in theater and might therefore be described as empathetic by temperament; (iii) during the first encounter with "Robert" we had both been psychically primed by a few cups of strong tea laced with the juice of psilocybin mushrooms.**

Our experience of euphoria and heightened awareness lasted several weeks beyond the initial contact with "Robert". I first began to feel the gravity of mundane reality again after witnessing newsreels of the carnage in Romania on Christmas Eve.


Robert Graves in his 50s
THE ABILITY TO CHANNEL is a faculty inherent in everyone, though certain types of individuals seem more predisposed to developing their sensitivity as mediums. Poets, composers, dancers, writers, sculptors, painters, and orators have traditionally acknowledged their personal daemons and muses. The same gift of inspiration has also manifested itself in the lives of many scientific geniuses. Scriptures have been revealed by similar process through the agency of individuals with specialized neural pathways. What's truly surprising, therefore, is that people seem to have grown so grossly unmindful of their spiritual links to all the other dimensions of being. If heightened awareness leads to greater awakeness then a huge percentage of the human race is fast asleep. Asleep to its own divine origin and destiny, to its own true potential.

So where the hell is it all coming from?

Bearing in mind that any working model of Reality can at best be considered a tool to help us attain some conscious mastery of our lives, let's examine the arcane teaching that Human Experience is essentially a 7-dimensional affair. And to simplify things let's call these dimensions "levels" - or frequency bands.

Lower frequencies generate greater apparent mass or solidity. So we may visualize the different levels as a series of "kingdoms" of ascending sublimity: mineral, vegetable, animal, elemental, mental, archangelic, deific. The "higher" levels incorporate and complement the "lower" and vice versa. Where does the human being fit in? It varies from one individual to another. The fully realized individual functions consciously on all seven levels. The vast majority of humans, however, appear to be enmeshed in the specific dramas of Levels 3, 4 and 5.

Level 3 is the physical plane, the animal being with its amazing sensory structures. What we call 3-dimensional reality, the tangible world.


Level 4 is the elemental (or astral) plane where the sense of space does not exist (or if it does, it's highly elastic): this is where we "go" in our dreams and in states of death or deep trance. Devas, demons, and disembodied souls abound on Level 4. Thought-forms of limited volition abide in this timeless Twilight Zone that could well be an aspect of Time itself.

The realm of pure thought - Level 5 - is where the Muses live. This is where the Intellect originates, where the Imagination becomes articulate. Five is the firmament of Mind where Ideas float like clouds.


It is the sacred grove where the Poet trysts with his Beloved and is consumed by Eternity. When Mary and I first met "Robert Graves" (a well-named ghost, I had quipped) the man had been disincarnate for nearly four years, earthtime. The Poet was one at last with his White Goddess and "Robert" had himself become a full-fledged Muse.

On Level 6 the ego-personality diffuses into the perfect principle of cosmic love, compassion, and healing light. Here the concept of gender is irrelevant. Six is rightly called the archangelic realm, for it is through archangelic action that the lower kingdoms are sustained. In the myth of Lucifer/Prometheus the Archangel/Titan is erroneously said to have "fallen from Grace"; in truth the Bringer of Light voluntarily forswears Godhood in order to rescue other sentient souls trapped in the lower realms.***

Similarly, the emotive force of the Christ initiation lies in the idea of a voluntary fall, crucifixion, resurrection and return to the Godhead which, for us, is the Absolute Reality of Level 7. In effect "where the hell it's all coming from" is wholly relative to what level of awareness we’re functioning at.


Robert Graves in his 60s
"ROBERT GRAVES" developed into a splendid transdimensional conundrum for us. Having introduced himself as Mary's platonic lover from her previous life he went on to become my spirit friend from Level 5 - and eventually established contact with me on a heroic, archetypal and mythic level - playing Zeus to my Cronos, Castor to my Pollux, Romulus to my Remus, and so forth. Finally "Robert" extended his being onto Levels 6 and 7 and was transformed into the voice of our own infinite potential.

Eventually we were faced with a difficult decision: whether to go public with the material or limit it to a manageable circle of friends. "Robert" himself at one point expressed his indifference as to the outcome of our sessions. He said he trusted us with the material. We toyed with the idea of publishing anonymously or under a pseudonym. But then why mystify what's already and always mysterious? Besides (I reminded myself) all names are ultimately meaningless. Nonetheless I've always found anonymous notes, phonecalls, tracts or reviews extremely annoying. So we see-sawed between doubt and decision for a while until one day it suddenly became very clear: the "Robert" contact had restored and reinforced my sense of purpose and given Mary a whole new perspective on her life (or rather, lives) Why couldn’t it do the same for others?

Encouraged by the open-minded interest shown by many of our friends and by the outstanding example of inspired sensitives like H.P. Blavatsky, Alice A. Bailey, Jane Roberts, Dorothy Maclean and David Spangler (to name but a few) Mary and I felt we simply had to do our bit for the Aquarian Dispensation. whereupon "Robert" waxed enthusiastic and gave us his unconditional blessings.

To Mikhail S. Gorbachev we owe a very special debt of gratitude for reminding us of the virtues of glasnost and the power we hold in our own hands for perestroika on a planetary scale.

Antares (Kit Leee)
Kuala Lumpur,
Easter Sunday, 1990

______________________________________________________________________

* Robert’s name occurs in quotes because there has thus far been no incontrovertible proof that we were in contact with the surviving intelligence of the late great poet. However, our subsequent research into Graves' life and work has only reinforced the feeling that it was him all right. In any case all names are ultimately unimportant except as a form of "station identification."

** I have myself eaten the hallucinogenic mushroom, psilocybe, a divine ambrosia in immemorial use among the Masatec Indians of Oaxaca Province, Mexico; heard the priestess invoke Tlaloc, the Mushroom-god, and seen transcendental visions. Thus I wholeheartedly agree with R. Gordon Wasson, the American discoverer of this ancient rite, that European ideas of heaven and hell may well have derived from similar mysteries. ~ Robert Graves, in his foreword to The Greek Myths, 1960

*** "The Manichaean tradition knows that the Holy Ghost is the transformed Lucifer and the dove is the transformed serpent; and that the Grail was once formed from the precious stone in the crown of Lucifer and was filled with the blood of Christ who redeems Lucifer himself." ~ Trevor Ravenscroft, The Cup of Destiny

The controversial Gnostic teacher John Lamb Lash suggests that Lucifer, like Pan, was deliberately conflated with the Devil/Satan by the Roman Church as part of a strategy to disconnect humans from Mother Nature. Indeed, Lash makes a convincing case that Lucifer and Sophia are interchangeable names for what he calls the Planetary Animal Mother, source of all life in the solar system.

TO BRING THE DEAD TO LIFE

by Robert Graves

To bring the dead to life
Is no great magic.
Few are wholly dead:
Blow on a dead man's embers
And a live flame will start.

Let his forgotten griefs be now,
And now his withered hopes;
Subdue your pen to his handwriting
Until it prove as natural
To sign his name as yours.

Limp as he limped,
Swear by the oaths he swore;
If he wore black, affect the same;
If he had gouty fingers,
Be yours gouty too.

Assemble tokens intimate of him -
A seal, a cloak, a pen:
Around these elements then build
A home familiar to
The greedy revenant.

So grant him life; but reckon
That the grave which housed him
May not be empty now:
You in his spotted garments
Shall yourself lie wrapped.


[First posted 23 June 2015, reposted 9 November 2015 & 9 November 2017]



Wednesday, November 6, 2019

Oppressors versus The Oppressed (reprise)

This started out as a wordy response to an email from a virtual friend based in Scotland - a veteran spiritual warrior who has waged war against The Machine for nearly 60 years. He wrote:

I don't believe you have any idea of what is going on in some parts of this 3D Virtual Reality trip simply because you are fortunate enough to find yourself as a respected member of a village in the jungles of Malaysia. Some of us are not quite so fortunate, living as we do next to jungles of concrete and the Heart of Babylon's Darkness. 

Where the children in the gutter cry out for bread, please do not be so insensitive as to ask why we do not eat cake...

IT WAS NEVER INTENDED that any person - nor any creature of the field or sea or forest, not even the illegitimate offspring of an earthworm - be in NEED on ANY level - particularly when it comes to basics like food, shelter, emotional and physical security, and the opportunity to evolve beyond all limitations.

Every man, woman, and child is INDEED a STAR (as the much maligned Aleister Crowley was so fond of saying) and, as such, possesses intrinsic value beyond measure in the mere fact that they EXIST. The untwisting of the genetic knots and tangles within our earthly biosphere will transform NEED back to EDEN.

The 3D industrial society the majority of humans now find themselves living in is, in truth, a diabolical travesty of all universal principles of aesthetics and ethics. What many call "Babylon" - where "dark satanic mills" rule and every other lifeform (whether mineral, plant, animal, or human) is treated as an energy source to feed the juggernaut of Gross National Product - is, in effect, a MIScreation brought about by the spawn of "lesser gods" (whether you call them Nephilim or Renegade Reptilians).

As such, it really NEVER ought to have happened. But it did - and here we are, mostly struggling to emerge from this dark and dense evolutionary cocoon into a new butterfly day.

Generation after generation, programmed to "earn a living" and "sing for their supper"… being indoctrinated with ideas like "there's no such thing as a free lunch" and "survival of the fittest"... parents scrimping and saving to send their brighter kids to the best schools, so they will have a chance to move up the social ladder as "professionals" with a degree behind their names, speak posh and be invited to join elite clubs, where they are eventually tapped on the shoulder, taken into the backroom and initiated into "the facts of life" aka the Malthusian ideology that there simply isn't enough to go around and that we must grit our teeth and discreetly and periodically cull the population ("Every gardener will tell you plants thrive better when regularly pruned")...

Whether the prevailing doctrine is "White Man's Burden" or "noblesse oblige" or "pedigree rules"... the sharper intellects are identified and integrated into the ranks of the corporate and upper classes - provided they keep their noses clear of Promethean politics and avoid the temptation to side with the rabble and turn into "whistleblowers."

Those that begin moving in this populist direction are turned into icons and trademarks even as the movements they inspired are infiltrated, co-opted or subtly hijacked (the way Tony Blair led the Labor Party back to the middle, then gradually farther and farther right; in any case, bipartisan politics is invariably a game of Dum & Dee and, as in the soccer bizniz, star players are routinely bought and traded by football clubs).

I know as much as anybody who accesses the internet - and probably more - about atrocities occurring everywhere you look, from slum kids in Manila and Rio de Janeiro to slave girls in Israel and the Balkans and the millions dying of hunger, thirst, epidemics, war, and "natural" disasters every year. Almost every hardship and injustice has its origins in religious dogma: e.g., the Roman Church, like every empire eager for quantitative growth, has ensured that their subjects keep producing children as cannon fodder, and by suppressing and distorting natural human sexuality, encouraged commercialized and commodified sex which is now a multibillion dollar global industry.

The Islamic doctrine of "Insha'allah" ("if God wills") and the Hindu teaching of Karma made people passive and fatalistic, accepting the harshest "fate" with mulish docility and a stoicism founded on faith in the afterlife. Judaism told its followers they were the Chosen Few - and everybody else was fair game, worthless and totally dispensable goyim.

Above all, the three major Book Religions (Judaism, Christianity and Islam) have effectively disconnected their adherents from DIRECT EXPERIENCE OF NATURE AS THE ORIGINAL LIFE MATRIX - and humans are today so afraid of the wilderness, and all that occurs outside of the Artificial Matrix, you have urbanites anxiously asking about mosquitoes and snakes when they see images of a jungle dwelling.

I have made a lifelong study of what drives the Control Freak in all of us; the childhood emotional traumas that subsequently manifest as ruthless, heartless ambition. Yes, I know the hellish hologram very well indeed. I visit it often (for research purposes) but I have no desire to live there!

When you've spent your entire life breathing foul, toxic air and drinking denatured piped water, your entire neurology is impacted - and your perceptions are flavored by despair and a constant sense of oppression and victimization.

Suffering itself is highly addictive. We get used to discomfort and disease and sabotage all hopes of ever getting free of these vicious circles. Parents in Calcutta reportedly mutilate their children so they can enjoy a career as beggars. Parents in New Hampshire program their kids to be skeptical and mistrustful of "unscientific" data (making them blind and deaf to their own instincts and impulses) so they stand a better chance of survival in the shark-infested waters of the profit-driven workaday reality.

In short, the mess is so massive it has turned into a Gorgon - and those who attempt to look closely at the horrendous problems that confront us turn to stone, or at least their hearts do. Compassion fatigue quickly sets in.

Let's be honest about it. How many images of napalmed Vietnamese kids, tortured Iraqis, beached whales, and cormorants encased in oil slicks can any of us process before our brains switch off to protect our sanity? So most of us settle for signing the occasional internet petition, and if the issue really moves us to action, we make a PayPal donation to some movement or organization set up to deal with it. Some of us even sign up as active members of this or that campaign - whether to topple the military junta in Burma or to stop the World Bank from building another catastrophic dam in Asia, Africa or Latin America.

Most folks on this planet are still fairly decent. And many are old enough souls to realize we are truly at an evolutionary crossroads where Utopia or Oblivion are the only possible outcomes... and if you were the CEO of Exxon-Mobil or heir to the Rothschild fortune, would you opt for oblivion even if it felt like the "moral" thing to do?

Illustration by David Dees

These destructive and enslaving agendas (reptilian or otherwise) are already doomed to oblivion. They will NOT endure beyond the next few tumultuous years of linear time. Are they simply going to stop in their tracks, turn around, and shuffle off into the sunset of "Western civilization"? Or will the controversial public service information folks like me disseminate online ultimately ignite enough minds to shift the balance of power?

Truth is, I don't know. Nobody really knows. But all of us DO know it's a critical juncture. Quantum jumps are being made. Ascension is in progress. The planet's Schumann Resonance Frequency has reportedly increased in the last 30 years from an average of 7.8 to nearly 13... and with the incredible solar flares and Coronal Mass Ejections of the last few years altering the magnetic field of the entire Solar System, something COSMIC is DEFINITELY happening... but we don't know exactly what it is, do we, Mr Jones?

And what do religious dogmas and spiritual doctrines teach? That we are a species "FALLEN from Grace," born with "ORIGINAL SIN," and "TRAPPED in dense physical bodies" (from which our Souls will only find release when the bodies die).

The Manichaeans and early Gnostics developed a pronounced aversion for all things carnal and mundane, yearning to return to the Spirit Realms and be free from the Prison Planet and our fleshly forms, subject to decay and death, in which our souls sojourn.

Hindus and Buddhists have the same disregard for what is deemed the "lower" chakras and "lower" worlds - visualizing a realm of immortal splendor where the gods reside and to whose vast beings our soul fragments will return when our negative karma is fully paid and our moral debts cleared. This is the underlying assumption of all ascetic practice: that deliberate DENIAL of the physical senses and the body's desires will help the spiritual aspirant attain Nirvana or, at least, the status of "Holy Man."


New Age philosophies, so-called, tell us we are Spiritual Beings Having A Human Experience, implying thereby that the "human experience" is akin to a bunch of suburban kids "slumming it" in the poor quarters of the city, to gather experience, get a few cheap thrills, or just for the goddamn hell of it. But, ultimately, Spirit is "superior" to Matter/Form - and since the physical world we know is referred to as Mother Earth (the word Matter derives from Mater anyway), while the abstract idea of Heaven (where dwells the Father) somehow represents Fire & Air (Spirit & Mind) - as in "Father Sky and Mother Earth" - it follows that the Male Principle has predominance - or at least pre-eminence - over the Female, just as High must be "better than" Low!

So, despite all the goddess-cult resurrections and overt feminism and the refreshing sensitivity of New Age men, the masculine Left Brain continues to drive - and after a while, when the evidence of the senses begins to overwhelmingly contradict and neutralize all that sweet talk about Oneness, Light and Love... we retreat into Militant Survivalism, and prepare ourselves for Street Action and Guerrilla Warfare Against Big Brother.

In short, just about EVERYBODY has been looking down the wrong end of the telescope. 99% of everything we think we know isn't actually so. What are we going to do now that we know this much - that we know NOTHING at all?

We replay our emotional loops, which are like movie files. Let's say I had a peak experience the first time ever I kissed a girl. I keep scanning the reality field for opportunities to relive that high.

Let's say I felt like a hero standing up to some pompous arsehole of a teacher when I was 13, and though I was sent to detention, I won the admiration of my peers. So I keep finding pompous arseholes in authority to challenge, and I don't mind being kept in detention so long as I get to experience being a hero. Having a stash of weed makes life on the outskirts bearable. The dope mellows me out, but when the supply runs out my neural circuits feel uneasy and agitated and that makes me grouchy. Turn on the telly... and there they are... lots of pompous arseholes to get mad at saying stupid things and introducing legislation to make life even more limited and demeaning for those on the economic fringe! See what I'm getting at? More or less what the docudrama What The BLEEP Do we Know?! addresses (if you haven't seen it, please do, just click on the link).

It's certainly useful to monitor the airwaves and keep track of the game of gratuitous violence as it plays out in the 3D Matrix. But staying alert to epiphanies, and maintaining your life on Earth in pleasure, and in joy and gentle compassion, blessing each breath as it leaves your lungs so it can infect somebody else with the sense of the miraculous, is far more powerful and effective use of our energy.

When enough of us regain our self-mastery as Christed Sovereigns of our own destiny, the many layers of Reality will rapidly and effortlessly realign themselves in accordance with the Supreme Will of our Unified Thought Field. Heaven on Earth will prevail at long last - this time, forever.

Can I rest my case now? Incidentally, where I live cake is the same price as wholemeal bread.

[Originally posted in August 2010, extracted from an email dating back to 2007 or so. Reposted 11 February 2013]



Wednesday, October 30, 2019

David Icke deserves the highest award for bravery in battle! (updated)



The first David Icke book I stumbled upon was The Robots' Rebellion (1994). I took an immediate shine to the man and began picking up as many of his books as were available locally. Friends began passing me the ones that weren't - and over the 24 years that I've been tracking David Icke's extraordinary mission, my admiration for him has only kept growing.

His superhuman ability to connect the dots, see the big picture, and then step down the data so that he can attempt to explain it all in linear language to a largely incredulous and ignorant world - I'm utterly gobsmacked each time I watch David in action and realize that he's more or less accomplished what he volunteered to do on this planet - and now he's just enjoying the cruise.

For those of you who haven't been paying close attention to this absolutely wonderfully brilliant guy... just imagine you're looking at a grown-up, middle-aged version of Luke Skywalker... because, fucking hell, that's pretty much what he is - a full-fledged Jedi!



[Brought to my attention by P. Seth. First posted 18 October 2012]

I was moved by the quiet endurance of this little known religious movement... (repost)



I've never heard of Oomoto and now that I have, I'm not about to become a member. But this charming and sincere documentary reveals that these peace-loving believers are entirely worth supporting, as they seem to be completely untainted, neither by materialistic goals nor imperialistic ambitions.

So much for the Japanese Empire. Oomoto will long outlive all ersatz monarchies on earth. That's my prophecy!

Why has Japan suffered so much calamity since the end of World War II? I have no doubt it's because the Japanese people turned their backs on Mother Earth. Let this be a warning to humans everywhere.

[First posted 10 June 2012]

Tuesday, October 29, 2019

A PRAYER FOR THE LAND I LOVE (reprise)

Dear God or Whatever You Prefer To Be Called These Days:

I'm not in the habit of publicizing my private thoughts,
But times are such that habits must be broken.
And so I will utter my innermost feelings
In the form of words,
Even though I know
That words are what imprison us
In mindsets of No Escape.

For I remain steadfast in my belief
That words spoken from the heart
Have the power to free us from
The evil clutches of political expediency.

It saddens me to see such beautiful, graceful beings
Caught in the deceit of cosmetic piety,
Enslaved by the ugly dictum - "Money Talks!"
Enfeebled by the lame excuse - "What to do?"
Disempowered by the abject fear of False Authority,
And disenfranchised from their own glorious destinies.

Grant unto us the clarity and wisdom
To understand that we have no grander gift
To bestow on our children than the freedom
To speak their heart's truth
Without fear of punishment.

Grant unto us the courage and the fortitude
To truly embody the lofty ideals we hold so dear;
Let us not falter in our inner struggle
To throw off the mental shackles of Greed and Fear,
For those are the twin towers of Tyranny.

Grant unto us a Vision of the Real.
Let us not be misled by cunning projections
From the debased minds of "economic experts"
Who advise us not to "rock the boat" of Status Quo;
And whose dire warnings are couched in grave tones of
"Security and Stability."

Remember: INTEGRITY
Is the key to the Divine Sanctum of the Self!

And since each Nation is but a collectivity of Selves,
My greatest duty to the land I love
Is to always seek to be true to myself;
And my true self tells me:
Bear not the yoke of feudal despots
A moment longer than you need.
There's room and board enough for everyone,
Once you cast the Vampires of Vitality
From their vacuous palaces erected by the sweaty toil
Of half-wit slaves, who know not half their worth.

This beautiful, gracious land is YOURS -
Not THEIRS! (Well, it COULD be theirs too,
If they'd only see themselves as YOU).
The Reality of Heaven on Earth will soon be here,
And to that we are ALL heirs.

Antares
24 October 1998

[First published 26 August 2008. Cartoons courtesy of LAT. Reposted 3 July 2011]