Gnosis

Truly, my brethren and beloved, you who are closest to me, who eat with me and drink with me and rest where I rest, you who have abandoned the sky father and the earth mother because I have asked it, unto you will I give all mysteries and all gnosis. I will give you the mystery of the twelve æons of the rulers who dash across the sky like comets and their seals and their ciphers wrapped in brown paper and tied with cotton string and the manner of invocation for reaching their regions will all be in your inbox on Tuesday morning.
I will give you moreover, the mystery of the thirteenth æon . You will attain this just by being with me, and by limiting conflicting influences. I will teach you the manner of invocation for reaching their regions, leading by example. You must watch carefully, I can’t explain it because words are lies, but I can show you if you turn all of your attention to the moment. I will give you their ciphers and their seals, the symbols that are made in opposition to the symbols you were taught when the world was being built.
In music I will give you the mystery of the baptism of those of the Midst and the manner of invocation for reaching their regions. And in gestures I will announce unto you their ciphers and their seals. It will be a dance and the steps will change even as the music changes. You will never know what step comes next just as I never know what step comes next. The sequence will seep into your consciousness like water being absorbed by cardboard. I want your consciousness to become soggy , a formless pulp.
And I will give you the baptism of those of the Right, our region, by letting the sun scorch your skin and the eagles eat out your eyes. Its ciphers and its seals and the manner of invocation for reaching thither are available for immediate download at itunes. I will give you the great mystery of the Treasury of the Light where all my wealth is stored. It looks like an ordinary honey jar unless you have already received the baptism of those of the Right, in that case it will look like nothing at all. The manner of invocation for reaching thither is the subject of a PBS special that you can rent from the local public library. If you lack a membership therein I suggest that you obtain one. Never make the mistake made by Simon Magus and keep The Learning Annex Guide To Successful Alchemy out for over three months without renewing. You can renew online or with any touch tone telephone. There is no sense in over drafting from your account with the Treasury of the Light before you have learned to turn lead into gold.
I will give you all the mysteries and all the gnosis, for low monthly installments of just $29.99 or you can devote your life to following me and doing as I do. I will give you gnosis in order that ye may be called 'children of the fullness, perfected in all the gnosis and all the mysteries.' It can be the name written over your photo on your Facebook page.
Or I could award you a diploma. My new ink jet printer works like a charm and the have special certificate paper for sale in office supply stores. Blessed are ye beyond all men on earth, for with access to these spheres you will have room to breath. For the children of the Light are come in your time, you are they.
All that is required for an achievement of gnosis is everything, or just a monthly payment. You choose. Truly, my brethren and beloved, you who are closest to me, who eat with me and drink with me and rest where I rest, you who have abandoned the sky father and the earth mother because I have asked it, unto you will I give all mysteries and all gnosis. All others will get what they pay for.

Thought and Knowledge

Our language, and through our language, our hidden mechanisms of observing and imagining reality, tend towards permanence. We think in terms of things being steady, firm and unified. A rock is a rock. A single clear unit that stays, wherever it may come from and wherever it may go, it retains its unity and its completeness and separateness. And given that we see it as "rock" it retains its identity and we project it into the past and into the future. We stand before a rock and in our minds the rock, as it is, has a past that extends into the obscurity of unknown origins and a future that extends into the brightness of infinite possibility.
This way of observing, thinking and imagining, extends to all our concepts and ideas, including thought itself. And so, a "thought" becomes like a "rock". A thought becomes a single steady unified entity that stays and is complete. A "thought" has a past and a future, and it can be relied upon to manifest and emerge into the light when called upon. A mind may then be pictured as a large bag full of solid thoughts, thoughts that crowd each other, sometimes crash into each other and sometimes even come together to form a larger unit. To learn, in this visualization, is to augment the bag with additional "thoughts" – facts, ideas, theories, concepts, techniques and so on. A "wise man" then is one who owns a large bag of "thoughts". An ignorant man’s bag is nearly empty.
Following this path, in looking for a guide, we would look for the being with the bag that is heaviest and most full of these permanent and solid thoughts. Such a being would then be able to impart these single, complete and solid thoughts one at a time, as needed. As the student learns, another solid single thought would be given and the student’s bag would grow in time, filling itself with new permanent and complete thoughts. Eventually these would be passed on to another.
But thoughts may bubble sideways, they may encounter a corner and come out drenched in different colors, thoughts may one day turn soft and in their softness climb a hidden stairway and become that which they weren’t, they may break in two and then in two again, they may dance in a frenzy and collect into tiny beads of sweat along your forehead, they may drip from your chin, they may twist around your tongue to be spat onto your lover’s mouth, they may fill you with intense lust and lift your feet forward and out, and so they may break in three and one may travel out and one may hide and another may expand so far that you will lose sight of it and you may then ask: "Did I ever really know anything?"
Such playful and infinite bursts of energy cannot truly be contained, and not even the limits of our human language will prevent them from running away and finding new homes where they may rest for a while before continuing on their endless journey… our endless journey. As long as they are alive they will continue changing and moving and transforming.
A true wise man knows to not even attempt to enclose them, knows that any force that is inclined to wrestle them onto submission will produce only death and dust, and rocks… Any attempt to capture and enslave the raw energy of creation will only result in the warden becoming a slave to his own prison. In trying to make them permanent, the mind will lose its explosive burning life and be reduced to a quiet cemetery where old, tired ideas come to rest.

And yet we can learn.
And yet we can be taught.
And yet there is a Teaching.
And yet there are Teachers.

What is it then that a wise Being can pass onto us that will not trap us or enslave us but set us on fire, propelling us up and out into the vast unknown?
What is the Knowledge that is not a thought but makes all other thoughts dance?

Never Do As Others Do

We are all equal points of radiance, stars blanketing the endless sky. No one is more inherently magickal than any other, though some do more to cultivate their magickal nature. We do not move, do not go anywhere, but we do play games; that game that is played by one that can never move, the imagination game.
Sometimes I will be the teacher, sometimes you will be the teacher. Those stars that go about worshiping other stars grate on me. It is fine, a wonderful thing, to adore another star, but to grovel and imagine that another is higher than you is a cop out. It is denying your nature as a star, your ability to be a center of gravity.
And those that would let others get down on their knees and beg to be filled with purpose by them are a sickening breed, wolves in shepherds clothing gorging themselves on the disease of the meek. I would rather be surrounded by equals with whom I can engage and feel the force of their presence as they make their own way through the big game .
Self righteous, arrogant, snobby bitch, that is what play time emperors and their sniveling courtiers think I am. I will tell you all now- I march to a different tune. A tune that perhaps is too complex and noisome to please.
Take your tra la la and stuff it. I will have a roar. I can hear a roar, hear it and feel this human cranium change shapes to open special chambers for communing with the great noise from which we all emerge.
I embrace the cult of multiplicity. When your God is a many headed horror that will speak through any shape that comes alive with the knowledge of life, you can not fall prey to serving a mortal master. You serve only that many headed beast of which you are a part. You are immune to the con of the existence of the human primate and the relevance of its social hierarchies.
You may interact with your God through any of its heads. You may serve it through loyalty to one of these, but keep a wide inner eye on that shape, because old heads die and new heads rise up in unexpected places. Remember that while it is okay to give someone a shoe, you must keep one for yourself. Adore the other and make a sincere offering of your attention, but keep a little attention centered on the manifestation for which you are responsible.
Do not expect a guru to carry you. The one who would is going nowhere. A teacher is an awakener, not a pack mule designed to carry you up the mountain.

Who would want an ass for a master?

Do not make an ass of your master. Let the other ignite the eternal fire within you, but you must tend the flame thereafter. Reach out in unison with the many and step back from the "greater than/ less than" game of animal dominance.
The eternal night is the matrix in which we have our arising. It is the poison of immortality, which erodes the illusion of peace, safety, and singularity that we have wrought in the Big Game. The poison of life eternal interferes with the state of temporary death induced by participation in that game. We die when we throw both of our shoes into that game, when we hand the sum of our attention to something imaginary.
Avatars of the beast, the dark mother night, carry that pool of blackness which you hold in your core through the game but do not spill it. Remember your true nature, which those immersed in the big game have told you is "evil".
Find those others that carry liquid night in their forms, those other heads of the horror, and form an oasis, a temple to give sanctuary to the noise. Build your cults of multiplicity around these pools.
Never be deceived by the manipulators of the game. These include the "magicians" who know enough of the game to bend it for their benefit within the illusion. They are the ones who would feast upon your servitude, emptying your pools, rendering you a husk in the imaginary world.
One shoe is for you, the other is for Nuit, and her only. Tend her where ever you find her, keep her way in every step through the desert of the Maya. Walk beside your teacher on the way up the mountain and keep your fleece.

The Fisher King

My father, the Fisher King, waited for me to come and take his place.
Turning gray with age, within a stale chamber only dimly lit, he waited for me to come and dethrone him. He named me for a King of forgotten lore, but I am not his son.
He has no sons. I am his first born daughter.
By name and teaching he designed me to be both male and female. When I came to replace him, his death was gentler than any death ever brought to a father by a son. We beheaded him together, he and I, slowly examining the way he played the game designed to separate the wheat from the chaff.
His strategies, which were passed to me through mechanicality, these we examined together in an awakened state. Together we saw their limits, their weaknesses, prodded the blind spots that are part of my inheritance. Just as if he were handing down a used and slightly damaged car, honestly admitting that it can only make right turns, suggesting that it should be repaired, could be improved upon, gracefully he surrendered what he was.
His crown passed to me at the close of the 2007th year A.D., so gentle and subtle a passage that it will be undetectable.
I now am my father. I now bear the responsibility of raising my line from the enclosures of the Great American Zoo and becoming for all those who came before me, that which is more than animal; that which incubates and takes shape within and through the biological animal and its body of habits.
We call this the alchemical marriage, but the words grow weary with use by those who can only touch the words because they have not grasped or glimpsed the thing itself. But some do know the thing itself through some experience of it. They may refer to it in this way, or that, or not at all. What I refer to now is a transformation which may be unnamable.
I put the game that separates mortals from immortals on the hexagonal table of my dwelling place. Today I began to instruct my first born.
What we began today is to fertilize the soil. What we began today is to build a vehicle which someday she may learn to operate creatively, against its tendency to turn only right. We raised her to be as strong as a boy. When she grows she will become a woman.
Two parts of self, activated simultaneously to work in harmony, this is 33; two triangles oriented in opposing directions, unified to create a new form, 6, the star. Every man and woman is a star, within every man and woman it waits to be activated.
I have been able to tell secrets because the blood is coming and I am moving with it and through it, having been kept in the dark one week prior, forging the habit of a predator.
The predator is such because it eats that which may be herded, hunted, or fished.
My father, the Fisher King, waited for me to come and take his place. Turning gray with age within a stale chamber only dimly lit, he waited for me to come and hunt him.