From Sun to Saturn. Occultosophia Corporae: Lectures and Speeches - Zalewski-Grzelak Mateusz

Clause Concerning the Use of LLM-AI Tools

Large Language Model (LLM-AI) tools were employed solely for the transcription of lectures and for linguistic and editorial refinement of the text. However, all substantive content was personally delivered by me through oral presentations or authored independently in written form.

This is a book about an invisible war - one that unfolds neither upon maps nor within chronicles, leaves no trace in reports, and defies easy definition. It does not pertain to the majority of mortal men directly - or at least not in a manner that could be effortlessly grasped or measured. Yet, its echoes permeate everyday life, influence choices, shape attitudes, and endure wherever man confronts questions of meaning, good and evil, freedom, and responsibility.

Presented herein are the philosophy, theology, methodologies, and values I have derived from this confrontation - offered not as a closed system or doctrine, but as a testimony of a journey. It is a record of an experience that eludes simple categories.

Any attempt to psychologize or pathologize this often invisible war against the "other side" - which acts upon mortal men indirectly, yet at times with surprising tangible reality - strips it of its true substance. Such attempts reduce it to a mere mechanism, a symptom, a dysfunction - depriving it of its depth, its metaphysical dimension, and its existential weight.

If you believe that truth is soteriological, you err. Acting in accordance with truth within the Great Work is that of which I speak - and I shall not define truth; it belongs to the gods. Yet I can tell you this: when you feel the true forces, ideas in motion, powers, you are poisoned - not by them, no, for they liberate you. Suddenly, you are reborn into a world that has obscured these beautiful forces with filth.

Every act of heroism in the fight for these pearls, essences, truths, is therefore tragic; for in a world that, through advancing centuries, has covered them under a slick pit of babble, few draw near to them, and the majority stray.

You call this "my truth," "my personal gnosis." So be it. But if, perhaps, these forces are objective, then my clock is set to the correct hour in a world devoid of clocks.

The poison of truth first kills you; then, that which denies it in the world kills you. Within this poison, you cultivate your venomous gardens of discipline, righteousness, and refinement, until you may depart this world and drink from the Eleusinian Lake of Memory.

On Enticement, Curses, and the Manipulation of the Aura of Perception

Some individuals betray their character through their physiognomy, complexion, physique, appearance, gait, manner of dress, and gestures - in short, they betray their entire constitution. Others are revealed through their speech, face, intellect, style of communication, that which they share and that which they conceal, their mode of thought, their emotions - and the totality of these elements combined. All of this reveals much about their present state - though not every state of life, for we behave differently under varied circumstances and toward different people. Complex individuals are difficult to decipher; simple souls, by contrast, are read like an open book. Here, one may apply Galen's term regarding health - krasia - the state of man's natural constitution.

There exist numerous ways to modify it. The traditional manner involves the conscious manipulation of the malleable aspects of personality, which, in the hands of a master, become a weapon. What distinguishes the false actor from the manipulator is that the actor believes his own lies regarding who he is, whereas the manipulator knows who he is, yet intentionally chameleonizes his attributes. In this manner, krasia is transformed into eukrasia - the perfected state of what one is capable of being or imitating - or into dyskrasia - the fallen state of what one becomes or merely feigns to be.

Within the magical art, there are innumerable ways to modify the perception of who one is - both through seduction and the assuming of another's guise (that is, altering one's entire aura), and by simultaneously influencing the perception of other, unsuspecting people. Most people are unreflective, possessing limited knowledge of others, and are typically preoccupied with themselves. They do not question their intuitions or impressions regarding others: some they like, others they do not - the natural course of things.

A master cannot afford the luxury of liking or disliking - he perceives with insight, striving to draw forth the true "self" of another human being, stripped of masks and falsehood, to lead them toward a nobler aspect of their nature.

Yet the "other side" understands these mechanisms and can transform the most splendid of men into a hated wretch, and the greatest villain into a charming favorite. Thus begin the games of perception.

When one becomes the target of ill will, their aura begins to radiate revulsion, distrust, and a lack of charisma - others react in accordance with the aforementioned law. If such strategies persist over time, social destruction inevitably follows: through rejection, through the exploitation of others" natural flaws, and through turning human weaknesses against him.

Before long, such a person becomes alienated and despondent, their life falling apart - they lose their job, their family, and end up on the street. And yet, they were righteous, wise, and virtuous - why, then, this fate? Because there exist forces from the "other side" that, in an "unfortunate place and time," set their machinations in motion against them. No human being is perfect; in time, we degenerate under the weight of contempt and hatred, becoming the very proof that "they" were right from the beginning.

Why do people fail to recognize such processes? Because a single individual whose perception of another's "evil aura" is manipulated by the "other side" does little harm - friends offer support, and others remain uninfluenced. But when this aura is cast across the many through no fault of our own, and their perception is magically heightened, we are lost. Beware the crowd - it is capable of committing the most foolish acts without any gain, while each individual within it feels justified. Individually, they pose no threat; but together, as a mass, they can destroy a man in the blinking of an eye.

What, then, are the remedies?

A resilient ethos, steadfastness, and vigilance protect against many misfortunes - yet they are not enough. We may be knights in shining armor for years, but if people are perceptually manipulated against us, we shall fall from grace regardless. Well-spoken words, virtuous thoughts, and noble deeds are beneficial - people naturally respond positively to kindness, courtesy, respect, and attentive listening. Yet even this falls short.

The root cause must be eradicated. First, one must restore one's own aura by magical means: banish the malevolent shadows, perform apotropaic rituals, and implore the Gods for aid in lifting the curse.

What is a curse? It is everything that deprives us of happiness, integrity, the right to life, and the just enjoyment of the fruits of our labor - magically installed by the "other side." Most curses operate in a mode of slow destruction: imperceptibly at first, and subsequently in a cascade - when one thing breaks, everything else breaks shortly thereafter, unless we intervene in time. It is the harbinger of ruin.

Another remedy is to turn to the "other side" - specifically to that which is allied with us - to cast counter-curses and restore normal perception to the people. It is better that they see things as they truly are than be manipulated into loving or adoring us.

Ultimately, we may simply be fools, arrogant pretenders, or wretched failures - such people perish swiftly if fortune does not favor them, or they become exceedingly hypocritical if unduly elevated by unnatural forces.

Know thyself, practice restraint and moderation - and you shall not provoke too many forces capable of effectively destroying you.

Words Have Long Ceased to Be Ammunition. They Are the Sport of Civilized Men

I fear we live in times where the written word has long ceased to be ammunition. Writings no longer lead to revolution, reform, or inspiration, save perhaps for faint glimmers of individual perception or the ebbs and flows of insight, sighs, and the like.

With secondary illiteracy prevailing, I wish first to define precisely what secondary illiteracy entails.

Secondary illiteracy is a social phenomenon wherein an individual formally capable of reading and writing cannot fully utilize these literary skills in daily practice. It encompasses difficulties in comprehending complex texts, interpreting information, analyzing media content, or employing modern digital tools. Secondary illiteracy stems not from a lack of primary education, but from an insufficient development of reading comprehension, critical analysis of content, and the independent drawing of conclusions. It is an especially grave phenomenon within the context of the contemporary information society, where an excess of data demands selection, interpretation, and the assessment of source credibility.

A lack of critical thinking is an allied problem, consisting of the inability to independently evaluate information, question assumptions, or discern manipulation and logical fallacies. Deprived of this skill, a person readily accepts information in its superficial form, devoid of factual or contextual verification - a condition that leaves one vulnerable to propaganda, pseudoscience, or stereotypes. A lack of critical thinking frequently arises from both secondary illiteracy and limited instruction in logical reasoning, argumentation, and reflection upon the sources of knowledge. In societal practice, it results in a decline in the quality of decisions, susceptibility to manipulation, and hardship in navigating the complex world of information.

Presuming that a person who educates themselves for hours each day expands their conceptual apparatus, their thought, and develops their linguistic functionality - and language possesses innumerable functions: performative, phatic, utilitarian, and beyond.

Yet there exists a certain Wittgensteinian principle: that beyond one's own understanding, knowledge, and experience, a human being is incapable of gazing outward - they interpret everything back into that which they already know, understand, and which their perception permits. Thus, the supreme tragedy of modernity is that those who wish to convey something intelligibly from first principles, who desire to impart a grand narrative and a grand history, strike a wall. For those ruled by secondary illiteracy are incapable of leaping across the chasm between conceptual, terminological, philosophical, mental, intellectual, emotive, and rhetorical apparatuses - because they were never taught to do so.

Everything gravitates toward a shallow simplicity, a codification of the functionality of life's various aspects. In short, human beings are rendered utter fools, regardless of whether they attempt to engage politically or write books.

There is an old anecdote concerning the Tang dynasty Chinese poet Du Fu, who lived in the 8th century AD. If you tune your song too high, whether emotionally or intellectually, the rest will not join in. Where people tune their mental cacophony so low that they are incapable of attuning themselves to any song, they can only correlate it with an attention span akin to that of a goldfish. How can one focus on great works or grand rhetorical addresses?

Consider the Presidents of the United States: Trump's vocabulary does not ascend beyond fifteen to seventeen thousand words. The cretins who address the public lower the bar of their ambitions. Intellectuals are on the losing side, withdrawn from this world because they cannot fight - for how can one fight while explaining daylight and daily life, while heroizing that which everything is and the value it holds?

In this predicament, the sole recourse is to begin inspiring the younger generations. Yet inspiration that falls upon the dead fields of human hearts, minds, and souls - which are so barren that even were all the gods to manifest together, humanity would revert to the paradigm of fear or religious drivel.

I have presented this solely because I have repeatedly encountered situations where, in speaking or conveying a grand history and a grand narrative, I was interpreted back through the narrow lens of what the listener knew - or an idiot greater than myself took me for a total fool. He understood not an iota of what I spoke, for how could he, when it was conceptually and abstractly beyond his grasp? Abstract thought, abstract humor - who today engages in crafting humor that embodies multiple layers of irony, sarcasm, and self-irony?

To people with a disco polo mentality, one must speak in simple language; yet even when speaking simply, one can only convey as much as they are capable of receiving. And so, in an era of biotechnological dumps, no one cares.

Oligarchy replaces aristocracy, misconstrued as the rule of the mob - an ochlocracy - which it never was, neither in ancient Greece nor through all its possible evolutionary developments. Democracy, ladies and gentlemen, is the rule of an aristocracy of elites who inspire and educate. The demos does not rule the majority, nor does it rule man's festival of democracy. Assuming one deals with meritocratic individuals and an aristocracy, one chooses from among the elites, not from among the rabble. To quote Solon, the great Athenian lawgiver: "Blame not the gods that idiots and cretins rule over you; you have chosen them yourselves." Demand and supply mutually propel each other in cycles of stupidity, a feedback loop. Of course, none of this is linear.

In every ruin, hope emerges, change arises, and individuals appear who seek to alter the course. Otherwise, civilization would have collapsed long ago - as have so many others across the cross-section of fallen civilizations.

Via Regia - The Creation of Gods in Practice: I Have No God Complex - It Is You Who Possess a Vulgar God

Once, a certain girl from the "other side" mockingly asked me how to become a God; other sacrilegious individuals in this era of demos "equality" sought to repeat my steps, or outright steal my achievements. Allow me to provide the answer:

"Demigod" is a term that breeds much misunderstanding. Though our lives are never boring, we remain tied to mortal existence in the physical world. We cannot raise the dead, fly, or hurl fireballs. We age, we get pimples, and we die - just like you. In truth, we are much like you, only more so.

Demigods can often pass as exceptionally talented humans. Some live their entire lives without realizing they are anything other than ordinary men. The distinction arises only when our mortal bodies enter puberty. (I happen to be an exception, but such is the general rule).

Before then, we knew we differed from the rest of you, but we had no idea what was truly transpiring. And then begin the dreams, the visions, the ideas - the ferment commences.

Imagine it before you dare dream of being one of us. Your body changes, hair grows in strange places, and you feel like an unloved freak. And now, voices echo in your head, telling you that you have lived hundreds of lives and that you are a divine, extraterrestrial intelligence with tens of thousands of years of karma weighing upon your consciousness.

It is an alien, terrifying, and isolating experience. Many of us shatter under this weight. These unfortunate souls either fall into madness or suppress the thought entirely, never again regaining consciousness of their true nature in this incarnation.

One of the demigods, Tyr, whose present mortal incarnation I have yet to meet, almost never realized his true essence since the last Dark Age. The closest he comes is when, in human form, he enters the police force or becomes a self-appointed vigilante. Their earthly careers are always noteworthy - whether through resounding success or by blazing new trails in absolute failure.

- Curcio, James. 2007. Fallen Nation: Babylon Burning. 2nd ed. [United States]: Mythos Media.

So, you wish to become a god or goddess posthumously. First and foremost: you must possess a certain innate daimonic inclination - something present within you from birth, an inborn impulse. Second: you must undergo an Eleusinian initiation, ideally in your youth. This means that your spirit, your daimon, is submerged into Tartarus, into the abyss. There it is transformed within interplanetary, cosmic, interstellar realms, drinking the ambrosia of chaos, whereupon a specific sphere of dominion is assigned to you. In my case, it is the sphere of Saturn, and I have been destined as an intelligence (one among many) for this sphere since the age of twenty-one, during an initiation in Aberystwyth, Wales, in a small cottage, Heol Alwn 23, Waun Fawr. Perhaps it was an experiment of British magicians; perhaps, contrary to their belief, they were used by "invisible hands" for this "experiment." In any case, objective Platonic forces responded, defying their expectation that I would not survive even a month. Thus, all is ordered by gods and goddesses of whom mortal magicians have no inkling.

You do not then become a "Marvel hero" in human guise, but rather a suffering, tormented entity - a creature inhabiting an abnormal world of objective demonic forces and spiritual intelligences surrounding you. This is owing to a civilizational conditioning that, in present times, refuses to recognize such anomalies, complete with checks and balances upon the powers that have colonized such endeavors, rendering them impossible for the majority - I speak here of the metaphysical, Judeo-Christian architectures on Earth, which are themselves incapable of deifying the individual, yet destroy such possibilities for others.

If you survive - and the last one managed to endure for seven years (I have survived seventeen thus far) - you are still not a god. You are a mortal who has plunged into cosmic chaos, hell, Tartarus, possessing a certain capacity to act through logos - provided that creative voice is not stolen, squandered, or neutralized for the purpose of playing out political and religious machinations on Earth.

As a magician, you may be stripped of your soul, your power, and your strength; you may be rendered entirely helpless - and yet the gods shall remember you, for your demon is immortal. Therefore, you strive to live decently and virtuously, with human, "mortal" senses and faculties. Subsequently, in accordance with the royal tradition of the Via Regia, the Gods of Sumer construct around you the Meś tree - that is, they interpret the movements of the totality of your life through a period of trials into the body of a young god: a posthumous, individuating vehicle inhabited by your daimon, pneuma, or hegemon. In my case, this period spanned from 2013 to 2023; behind the backs of my adversaries, the alchemy of the extract of all that I was became immortalized, purified, rectified, and interpreted into my posthumous vehicle. It is a form of posthumous mask revealed to the world, imbued with all that is compatible with Divine realms.

Yet the greatest ordeal arrives only after death, Trismegistus. Why?

Because imagine a woman giving birth to a child in agonizing pain. It is precisely the same with birth into the realm of gods and stars - you give birth to yourself, severing ties with the biological life of mortals to be born into a world of powers and forces. The gods act here as facilitators as you hatch from the mortal cradle of the Gods into the veritable world of the Gods.

I expect that after death - as I have been informed - I shall pass through immense torments, through all the pains of the past (and there were many), to burn them away and be purified. It was a well of suffering that I must cross and span with a bridge, gathering all my divine qualities around the Ankh, the Meś tree, which was shaped within me by the Babylonian and Egyptian gods - in the firm hope that I shall endure.

I wish you the very same journey - and at the same time, I wish that you need not suffer quite so severely. For those who aspire to this caliber must know that becoming a power, a force, a god among gods, entails heavy posthumous obligations and duties. You then belong to a grander order of powers and forces, burdened far more than mortals, possessing minds deep as oceans, with an effective idea that merges with the subject of their action in the world of phenomenal hearts, minds, and souls. It is a process of de-anthropocentrization, of dehumanization from the human animal - a Hephaestian forging of a new minor deity.

Then, you are no longer a mortal. You no longer think as a human animal. You are impartial, objective, strong; you become an executor of the ideas of Higher Deities, their catalyst, and their judge. You belong to the cosmic order - the kosmoi - to the harmony of the universe.

All human instincts, biological desires, and drives are eliminated. You become a perfected purification of your daimon, separated from all impurities through the great fire, through the torments, trials, and experiences that prepare you.

So, if any among you still desires to become a god or a goddess, let them be prepared: to attain this status - even as a minor, "high-ranking" god of human origin - one must pass through hell in life, and then through hell once more after death. Only thus can one reach a stage that itself remains uncertain - unless the gods see fit to admit you into their Council.

May the gods aid me, then, and may I succeed in passing through after death. This life was a hell, yet I am ready for the next stage of transmutation - to shed my serpentine skin and become akin to the dragon gods above us.

Praxis and Doxa: The Tree of Life, the Embodiment of Royal Qualities, and the Transmutation of Beggars into Gods

Today I should like to address the theme of the Tree of Life embodied within the king or queen. We read in Douglas Estes's work The Tree of Life Themes in Biblical Narratives (Brill) that on a seal from Uruk dating from the third to the second millennium BCE, the goddess Inanna addresses her king, comparing him to the meś tree - the Tree of Life:

"My king, the meś tree that faithfully yieldeth fruit, radiant with the fullness of charm, son of his mother and father - I shall cause thee to shine like the Meś. May Anu (Saturn) grant thee life."

What, then, is the Tree of Life within the traditions of Sumer, Akkad, Assyria, Babylon, and Egypt?

When the goddess Sab-Seshat and Thoth inscribed divine qualities and names into the Pharaoh, they fashioned what may be termed a cradle of the gods - a path whereby a mortal, through labor and a life in the embrace of the gods, meeting divinity halfway, attained immortality after death. Thrice-great like Hermes Trismegistus, he underwent three stages: the Descent, the Virtuous Life, and the Posthumous Ascent.

Thus we have the tale of the goddess Ishtar's descent into the underworld, as she sheds all her jewels and garments while passing through the fourteen gates of hell. What is this act?

It is the very same archetype as the descent in the Eleusinian mysteries or Osiris's descent into Amenti. All these myths articulate a shared cycle that leaves behind a blueprint for the mortal - a track that may be followed.

The ambrosia of the gods is the dense matter of chaos, which must be reclaimed in order to forge the daimon from it. It is precisely within the interplanetary spaces, in the cosmic abysses, that the transmutation of consciousness occurs. Thither one must travel in soul to accomplish the proper transformation of the daimonic "self" - the spirit that shares fates and bestows destiny.

What, then, occurs next if one has indeed descended into the underworld and returned to earth with the trophy?

Precisely here begins the true path. Through trials and torments - of nature, as well as of the demonic and divine spheres - the mortal is tested and expanded. His nature is subjected to strain so as to draw forth the greatest movements of life, its total sum, bound simultaneously to the natural world and the world of planetary spheres in the Chaldean order: from the solar nature unto Saturn.

As man traverses these planets and acquires their qualities, expanding them and learning from them, something further unfolds in the process. For every successfully developed quality congruent with a given planetary dimension, one receives a seal - upon the right and left lung, in the solar plexus, the throat, the eyes, the Ajna (brow), and the crown (Kephalos).

The Tree of Life, the meś tree, is thus proportionally scaled to the mortal's occult, bio-sexual-psycho-pneumatic apparatus.

In other words, it is adapted to the mortal. This does not imply that man is the center of all things or the absolute - rather, that he is a divine animal capable of being restored according to exceedingly complex parameters.

Let us assume, then, that a man or woman has successfully undergone numerous trials over many years, and that across various times and places these spiritual centers have been preserved. Thereupon, a matrix of their full nature is formed, in harmony with the planetary natures. This is a continuous discipline - one cannot remain perfect at all times; yet when perfection is attained even for a fleeting moment and rendered permanent, that constitutes the result. Thus, at various moments of life, these divinely worthy qualities are preserved and - so to speak - transmitted (interpreted) into the body of a god, which is prepared by the Annuna gods.

This divine body receives the seals of these qualities, as if individualizing them through this unceasing labor. That which is deemed worthy to bear the vestments of a new god or a new goddess is preserved in immortality. Man does not become a god within the flesh - he may cultivate certain faculties, certain qualities, yet he remains subject to decay and impermanence. However, upon death, triumphing over it, his husk - the Dionysian body, the tomb - is cast aside, and the spirit acquired within the abyss inhabits the new divine body, fashioned from these divine qualities and attuned to the divine assembly, to the grander order. In this manner, the spirit collaborates with the gods who elevated the mortal.

One may say, therefore, that this entire process is an ongoing interpretation and translation of the mortal into a god or goddess. The mortal mind and body are discarded, and only the subtlest points of the Via Regia - the royal road of philosophers, kings, and queens - are retained. This may be understood as a divine catalyst of the purest qualities, enabling cosmic expression to flow through the individual.

This has been a summary of the practical aspects - omitting the mythologies, methods, and narratives that accompany them. Do I know how it works? No. I am a practitioner - I live it, and thus I impart that which I have intuited and which I believe is worth imparting.

With Socratic irony, I shall say: that which can neither be spoken nor imparted must nevertheless be said.

I remain forever grateful to the dragon gods of Sumer, Babylon, and Egypt - the great Igigi-Annuna - for opening this path to me and to the few others who have chosen to tread upon it.

Glory to the golden wings. Thank you.

Non Omnis Moriar

Shadows of Politics

Aristocracy, not ochlocracy. Meritocracy, not opportunism. Aretocracy, not the administration of mediocrity. What serves as the litmus test of all these in the contemporary world? There has always existed a vector directed toward ancient things - in the Roman Republic, in the paideic Athenian democracy. And that litmus test never fails: virtue.

Virtue - everyone cries "virtue!" Yet, all too often, it is merely a shadow and a spectacle. True virtue is that which can be embodied as merit; that which emanates from a person in a vision - a grand vision. Grand history - that is what endures.

Look around you: politics, the military-industrial complex, "diplomacy," power plays - how they are waged elsewhere over resources, finances, wealth. To quote Solon of Athens, the great reformer: blame not the gods for choosing these idiots to rule over you - your Trumps, Putins, Orbáns, Le Pens, and the rest. They are mere facades, leading to long-term decline.

Politics has become a business rather than leadership. Politics as a vocation - in the Weberian sense - has vanished.

It is ironic: I gaze upon the Presidential Palace in Warsaw. The city's coat of arms is guarded by two Angeli Bonum - feminine, pagan, noble ladies - Muses. Muses from various epochs, flanked by two caducei, Heraklean knots - and thus masters and mistresses who have attained perfection in virtue and merit, designated to the planetary spheres, to the stars, to the unceasing operation of deities.

And in the center resides the Thyrsa, or the most ancient word for the Thyrsa - Narxos.

Many pass for philosophers, yet few are crowned by the Muses. The Muses have been converted into a museum - a modern museum where one may view paintings and artifacts of bygone eras. Meanwhile, the true, worthy goal is to render oneself a museum - a temple of the Muses.

This is achieved through preparation from first principles: discipline in merit, discipline in virtue, discipline in education and knowledge - embodied in all these things. Only thus can one build a museum, a temple for the Muses within oneself.

It is a worthy endeavor - even if you are vanquished on Earth, within the material sphere, you emerge victorious as a spirit destined for this unceasing pursuit.

Many are known to the gods; few are recognized and acknowledged, philosophizing correctly, Thyrsa-wearers.

This perpetual chatter, the gossip of the earth - shallow souls, incapable of grand deeds.

Grand souls are rare - those animated by intellect. It is a sorrowful reflection, yet alas, life moves onward.

And after my departure - even if my role be that of a disruptor, a rebel, the dissident I have been - so be it.

To oppose the idiocies of your right-wing populist demagogues, your left-wing cancel cultures, your administration of mediocrity, your bureaucratic ideals repulsive to anyone who knows the value of good when institutionalism degenerates into pandering to the wealthy.

Critical thought possesses value - as do intelligence and intellect. Most likely, I have not much time remaining upon Earth. This harrowing march across the globe has been a disgusting ordeal, I must confess, considering what has been done to me. Yet I shall continue from the beyond - past the Dionysian bodily tomb.

Wheels of Fortuna: Who Goes Up, Who Goes Down

Beyond all my favorite methods for destroying dissidents such as myself, I have observed one in particular, which I perhaps communicate as a warning to those engaged in a state of metaphysical combat - spiritual warfare, shadow operations, psychological operations, the war for minds, hearts, and souls.

Over the years, a strange desire implanted from the outside repeatedly arises within you to murder someone. Suddenly, at critical moments of synchronicity, anger, violence, and aggression surge - the inclination to "kill him," is it not so? Or rape - an unnatural sensation of arousal, a chthonic heat emerges, and one's gaze is directed toward some solitary, defenseless woman. I shall not analyze the sources here; it suffices to know that psyops, esoteric warfare, computational radionics, and our friends from the demonic realms possess such capabilities. Self-control and awareness sharp as a dagger's edge! What occurs if you commit the act? You end up in prison. You end up in prison, and all that you strove for - your knowledge, your devotion to the gods, to whomever remains upon the earth worthy of being fought for, man or woman - is destroyed.

Society will not understand. To them, you are a criminal - an outcast. Likewise with the madness they can induce within you. They will drive you insane. You will end up in an asylum. Whom will they believe - you, or the psychiatrist? From a societal perspective, you are swept into nothingness. This does not explain away all criminal cases; there are exceptions to the rule that drown among criminal cases, indistinguishable to the untrained eye. I am fortunate not to be in prison. I thank the Gods that I was not made a lifelong resident of a psychiatric hospital in Eastern Europe. For precisely in this manner are dissidents eliminated today. Quietly - this is a silent war, far removed from the oblivious masses, from the crowd.

People live their lives. They have never laid claim to any power. They have never attempted to penetrate metaphysical reality or possess any force. If you do - you are finished. There exist numerous mechanisms to pacify, neutralize, and remove you.

Who goes up, and who goes down? Look where human dreams and desires tend. What do they long for? If you know who can control dreams and supply the illusion of fulfilling their desires and needs - therein lies power.

Thus, when you see celebrities praising Jesus, a Jew, and the entire psycho-social structure, praising the existing order through a resounding "yes!" to this abomination, falsehood, and degradation, or offering the illusion of a counter-narrative within the religion of popular entertainment to "control rebellion" by delivering it in a pacified form - ask yourself: where resides power, where is propaganda directed? What is the finest method to secure advancement in society by justifying its lies, illusions, and ignorance?

Well, if you possess sufficient fortune and potential to participate in this propaganda machine, they will grant you money. They will grant you a place upon the stage so that you may dilute the consciousness of the masses, who look upon these people as the golden calves of modernity - which they shall never become, yet which awaken their dreams and desires, leading them like dogs on a leash.

So, if you are a contemporary opportunist capable of packaging this in the guise of goodness, so long as you remain a puppet to those more powerful than yourself - that is the finest prescription for rising upward. If you possess the proper networks and contacts, they will provide you with money, fame, affluence, and delights. You shall be used as a hypocritical catalyst for their lies, deceptions, illusions, and ignorance. This is the foundation of power for these swine in the establishment - in big entertainment, in the military-industrial complex, and in social engineering practiced upon the living tissue of minds, souls, and hearts.

Look, then, at what entertainment offers you. Look at the narratives in films, series, sitcoms. What do they present in their metarhetoric? Are they autonomous, is it authentic art, or do they numb you toward certain matters? Do they manage your cruelty, your indifference? Do they direct your aggression? Do they control your reaction? Do they condition you toward certain behavioral-emotive-cognitive ends?

Precisely thus do they pacify the masses - through entertainment, films, music. For it is psychologically proven that if a human being replays these scenarios in the simulated reality of the simulacra of entertainment, the ordinary, uncritical spectator is swiftly lulled to sleep. He neutralizes, adapts, and normalizes these scripts, absorbing them.

Consequently, he becomes ineffective in any form of political rebellion, critique, or resistance. His conversations are confined to banal chatter about people, work, and family. He poses no threat to power - for, by design, he possesses no right to do so.

But if you are such a threat, if you construct an alternative discourse - you constitute a danger. For you are not part of the short circuit. If you expose the lies, illusions, and ignorance - you are a natural enemy. They must pacify you. You will not advance. Do not dream of it.

So you operate from behind enemy lines, advancing while remaining faithful to your traditions, to your Gods. If you cannot destroy this entire fortress of swine, then at least undermine it, sabotage it, subvert it wherever you can.

This is the essence of dissidence. It consists not of frontal warfare, but of total underground war - a war of subversion. Whether it unfolds through narrative, writing, metaphysical acts, psychological operations, or collaboration with the heavens, stars, or hells - act where you are able. And dare not retreat. This is not nihilism, for you offer something else; you have an entire superstructure of ideas prepared to restore the metaphysical, political, and social order. A grave error of most decision-makers is that, apart from resistance to injustice, they have nothing with which to replace these false orders.

And when the scoundrels tell you: "You are meddling in our affairs," you shall be swiftly destroyed, murdered, driven to madness, or forced into committing a crime so that they may eliminate you. So many have already been swept off the earthly stage into oblivion!

Yet so long as you act, there remains a chance that certain scenarios shall triumph. This is the present narrative of the planet - a battle over whose narrative shall prevail in the noosphere.

And if you align yourself with the righteousness of a true decision-maker carrying his inner truth, sooner or later the gods shall answer, protecting you from the earthly swine. No psychological operations, no attacks shall be capable of harming you, for you return to your Daimon - the Socratic genius and your inner truth; these are metaphysically indestructible matters, like the deified qualities of our great Muses, calling to us in a quiet, mighty language: "Onward, onward, follow us!"

They wish to kill you - they hire a sniper. The sniper shoots himself in the head and disappears. They wish to beat you, to intimidate you - they are destroyed. They wish to send religious fanatics - they are annihilated.

If you prove your worth in dissidence, the gods uphold you. You are an anarchist toward the established order, but if the order you carry within yourself is righteous - the gods shall support the anarchist who is an imperator within his own internal empire.

The Anarch - the king of anarchists. Why? Because you are right when the world stands upon its head. And you walk with the gods, for the world upon earth is inverted, and they support you - not those in dominions whose plans you disrupt.

White Flags

Look upon these fetishists of mundane reality! Do you imagine you will force them, teach them, or inspire them to gaze anywhere beyond? You shall sooner become an object of ridicule yourselves, a curiosity for fools! Bearing hells upon our backs that permit us to live like playthings solely to witness the virtuosity of our downfalls and failures over the years - it is ever a grand game when unaware of its destiny, prescribed like medicine by the Fates - yet it fights and speaks, performs miracles and rituals - for whom, for what?

Perhaps for one's own justification in the eyes of the gods, who look upon these struggles against stupidity - long lost to humanity - with amusement! One cannot compel action, inspiration, or brilliant motivation like a flame! They shall sooner bury you beneath religious and political lies, severing the threads of your mind from greater matters! No, not out of wanton malice or perfidy, but in the name of their delusional good, which they mistake for truth as they dance like servile swine to their masters!

I have done my part - secretly, invisibly - before the swine burst in and trampled all that was sacred, grunting with filth over my works, over my words, over my truths and seductions - through wonder and corruption, through furious hatred and a benevolent, yet treacherous patience! In the end, they shall call you a liar and drown all your hard-won experience in psychiatry, psychologisms, or within their own flawed narratives of an inability to reach for anything of worth!

Petty wranglers, learned simpletons - from the atheistic reductionist, to the political swine, to the blinded devotee of false religions, the half-baked esotericist, and the arrogant occultist - all initially take up something grand in their ignorance and ostensible righteousness! Why?! There, let them shine for a moment - and with what do they enrapture themselves?! With themselves, feeding upon the drivel of their own pigsties! They never paid heed to that which I had to convey to them - they merely sought to justify their babbling delusions, half-truths, or beliefs! I shall remain with my inner truth and my realizations, which contradict these babbling pests!

It is agreed, then - a retreat from this human species, which I no longer deem my brotherhood; securing the barricades so the swine cannot crawl and storm our former positions, posing their questions to me merely to prove themselves right; fortifying the citadels and ramparts behind us - which they shall conquer regardless, yet which will retard their march of swine while I proceed disembodied toward the stars.

In the final spectacle, they will attempt to reanimate your corpse, thrusting into it their narratives of nonsense, their own ignorance, and stupidity. They would display my dead carcass upon a podium in the public square to speak that which they wish to say - that which their slaves have ever longed to hear! I am already too old and exhausted to pursue a mightier path of contempt toward them, let alone educate the few who stand ready to learn.

And so another flame is extinguished, another retreats - times will not improve; it shall only grow more arduous in the coming decades. Already I wail and lament over the future fallen who shall attempt to move mountains! At least they will try; at least they will attain something worthy of their own names!

And when the swine upon the airwaves of Radio Earth, animated by things they do not comprehend, continue to chatter at those few who are resistant to death - well, I have learned all from a perfect silence filled with magnificent substance, from a perfect night filled with instruction. The swine are ever loquacious - were they to cease for but a moment, they would swiftly stand face to face with the death of everything they believe about themselves, wallowing in their own filth!

Once I heard: "He knows too much" - from swine who knew even less, cowardly tangling themselves in their own powerlessness because they dared not reach for anything that contradicted their cowardice. We hold contempt and spit for them, for they were complicit in the destruction of entire generations. The cowardice of those who could, yet possess a ton of rationalizations to refrain, is a transgression by omission; nothing shall convince me otherwise.

Reflections: On Misery - The River of the World

On Human Misery - The Ethica of Enki and Ninmah

Every perceived evil is an anthropological rupture - a place where the illusion of civilization shatters. The world is not a system of efficiency, but an ecosystem of diverse souls, wherein each plays a function in the grand harmony of suffering and wisdom. If every person - the cripple, the legless, the insane - has some utility, then the madman may be a supreme visionary, an inspired prophet; the crippled man may be an eminent poet, rhetorician, writer, and so forth. In this, the Ethica of Enki and Ninmah comes full circle, in accordance with the myth. Such is the ancient, royal vision of the world.

Now, I once landed on the street - seven days without food, traveling "somewhere, anywhere far from the past." I reached the Polish-Ukrainian border then, breaking into someone's cabin to sleep, shielding myself with a coat against the cold, chased off first by the shadows of the dead from the ruin of the house, who whispered that "it was theirs, I could not stay here." I heard only the scream of a demoness, "This fate, to my son?!" - one of the ladies who had adopted me. A humble calf sucks from two mothers; I have many, and to each I am grateful for the friendship shown. After dreaming nightmares, I awoke at three in the morning, sensing danger - nearby was a sharpened stake, which I took up, standing in the direction of the threat. A massive, broad-shouldered shadow of some creature emerged, and instantaneously an ancient hero embodied himself within me; I felt a light, luminous armor upon my torso. I knew not whether this "thing" would materialize or retreat, but observing me for a moment, it flew on. I could collapse back onto the rotten mattress in the cabin to sleep.

I know what misery is. I know what it means to be without a roof over one's head. I know what "helpful people" are - those who would gladly turn their gaze away, ignore you, or, in the worst case, attempt to kick you if you cannot defend yourself, or report you to the authorities.

Without food, without cigarettes - which are a luxury commodity in such a plight, making you feel more civilized, more human - without all the daily comforts.

And these are not always merely decisions we make in life, but circumstances - those circumstances that thrust us into a dire state.

Therefore, every time I see ordinary people strolling through the streets - I pay them no heed. There is nothing interesting within them.

I discern only exceptional people, with noble features, those who have something to impart - virtue, greatness, intelligence, knowledge. And those who have been tested by misery: beggars, young prostitutes during night hours at train stations, and so on and so forth.

I live in the city - I have lived in it for too long - until one longs to flee to the countryside, to the province, exhausted by urban misery, by all the shadows lurking in the darkness, all the shadows lurking in the darkness that actively work to your detriment, the wrong place, the wrong time - shadows of the dead, beggars, the homeless, alcoholics, murderers, petty criminals - all those who build this mountain of evil in cities and infect others with it. The last are by no means the first; their deceased souls populate public restrooms and the underground, while on the surface they cluster in dwellings, standing silently in the streets, believing them to be palaces.

For if you forge an unjust society in which one can become so derailed - through no fault of their own - this is precisely what occurs. If a systemic flaw is built into the structure of society, its metaphysics of death is likewise terrifying - it tends to replicate misery, drawing forth more misery.

You may be at the pinnacle, yet it takes but a single stumble - and you fall straight to the bottom, into the gutter, where the devil bids goodnight.

That is why it is so crucial - especially in magical endeavors - to preserve foundations, balance, and moderation; to destroy passions and excess, to conduct oneself well, if only to remain afloat.

For on the magical path, if you lack material foundations, endless resources, or financial backing, you stand to lose everything. Therefore, before you conquer yourself and step onto the paths of the Gods, you have upon your neck all these injustices to overcome - injustices that actively work to throw you to your knees upon the pavement, a mountain of injustice demanding a settlement of accounts with the living. Until you make peace with the dead, with their judgments, posthumous justice will ask - why? "Why does he prosper? Why did he survive? Why did he have a chance, while I did not?"

Living people in this regard are not much better. Oh! Tribute to the Di Manes, the good dead, the ancestral dead, family ancestors who, despite their condition, if they ended up in chthonic shadows, do not howl with the pain of vengeance and hatred like the Erynyes, but guide with wisdom, understanding, and beauty!

If you have ever endured misery, do not lose sight of it; do not forget. If fortunes have ever favored you, do not revel in it arrogantly; bow before misery in a wise, measured, and humane manner!

You must protect yourself, for if you truly tread upon the Pythagorean path - many hardships await you, I assure you.

And so - this is a bow, not to ordinary people, for they have their lives, their comforts - this is a bow to Perfection.

The Secret of Survival in the Face of Unconquerable Adversity

So what is the great secret of survival?

If your body is tortured, your mind passes through madness. You are yanked like a dog, to the right and to the left, by invisible - though to some, clearly visible - forces. Remember that whatever attacks you and strives to destroy you is only as strong as your body and mind are weak. If you identify with your daimon, with your hegemon, it fortifies you, for in this you are immortal as a pneumatic - as one who identifies with the spirit, and not with the body or the mind in and of itself.

The second matter - if an army of millions of demons, enemy angels, or some fools from magical circuses come against you - what do you do? You allow them to pass. You do not bind them to yourself, and they are rendered powerless. They flow through you like water through a river. If you catch yourself, if you grasp yourself at any point - then they will seize you. And at times, you must grasp yourself. But in such a way, like a virtuoso or a warrior - you flow with the current, at times you must block, at times you must halt. You must grant it flow and dance together with your atman, the dancer, with your dancing spirit among the stars.

In this, you are comparable to lesser gods and goddesses - if you identify primarily with your spirit and if you fortify it through numerous trials, experiences, and attacks upon body and mind. In the end, if you do this for years, years, and years - you shall become exceedingly resilient, possessing an unyielding, heroic spirit.

So whatever strikes you, damages your nerves, and so forth - it passes. It does not endure forever. You are not trapped in this torment for eternity, in an infinite cycle. And even if you are - there are ever moments of respite. In every prison there resides a fragment of freedom, and that freedom is within you and cannot be stripped away from you. For freedom is like Eros - a titanic work of the gods. And Moloch dreads it. Every control system, every system that attempts to enslave you, threaten you, bring you to your knees, and tell you that you are a slave - fears Eros and freedom. For once they awaken and fortify themselves like a citadel - they shall never betray your inner truth.

Ah, one thing more. Leonardo da Vinci once said: "Those whose spirit, mind, and soul are directed toward the stars are not susceptible to falsehood and slander."

What does this truly signify? It signifies that you can manipulate public perception. You can slander someone. You can gossip, spreading lies regarding a given person. At times, you can undermine their psychological balance merely to prove your lies and point to the "wars" raging within that person - while that which is finest remains reserved for the gods. Why does this occur? Because the perception of mortals is easily manipulated. Illusions can be created. One can serve "salads" of disinformation and appearances regarding that person for years - until they are buried beneath such a layer of lies that they shall never again raise their head above the mire.

Yet what is the superiority of that person if they know they are honest with themselves and with the gods? The gods are not some forces you can manipulate. They are not subject to impressions. It is they who dispense impressions - and you present your offering to them. They do not court you. As omniscient intelligences and forces, they know simultaneously of all the babble of Earth: of your data, your servers, of what unfolds within the intelligence services, within their internal discussions, within your mind, within your head, within your entire existence. You are like an open book to them.

And if you are distinguished by nothing - neither merit, nor nobility, nor heroism, nor defiance against the swinishness of this world - then you are unworthy of notice. You present no "offering" to the gods. But when you truly are - when you become that someone - you are recognized. The gods do not receive impressions. They take you into the cradle of the gods - as a small mortal who matures in nobility despite all the filth and s...t through which he had to pass.

This is a simple yet true, resonant principle that I have discovered to be honest and profound.

Nun.Gal.Meš - the gods of the stars and goddesses, princes of these stellar realms, and the entire entourages of planetary spheres and myriads of intelligences that inhabit them. Truth - that which is objective - is unattainable for mortals, yet attainable for the gods and goddesses. That which is subjective is objective. It is comforting to know that in a solitary struggle you need not wrestle with swine; you need not fight against lies and slander directed at you. If you are lynched, if you are slandered, if they cast mud upon you - remember the quiet, rational, wordless listening of the gods. This is no "heavenly daddy." This is a deep philosophy. They have constructed a golden bridge for you to cross - far from the swine, far from the liars, unto the other side - wherever it may be - it matters no longer. I have traversed this path since my eighteenth year.

My enemies have ever wondered: Why can they not defeat me? Why can they not break my spirit? And this is precisely why. And they never shall succeed. For I have fought through all these years bravely and steadfastly. It truly is just that simple. Direct your mind toward the gods, and your spirit toward the stars. Ignore the religious, political, and social rubbish. This does not mean you ought to be ignorant of religion, politics, or society. It means: engage only in worthy matters - those you yourself deem rational and worth the effort within the bounds of your reason. It truly is as simple as knowing what to engage in, and how. For as a rational being - if you are educated, perceptive, critical, and skeptical toward many things - you know how to observe the world. You know what yields good fruit, and what leads to ruin and destruction.

An Appeal to Fortitudo!

Reflections on the Last Men on Earth

We live in modern times, inundated by every manner of cruelty, corruption, and indifference.

It is as though we have all turned into malicious demons, casting barefoot bows toward noble hells and heavens. What has become of man? Humanitas. And how is it to be preserved? By succumbing to this cruelty, this indifference, this war of all against all? Alienated individuals in niche online subcultures, virtualities of a real life that never comes to pass. We are no longer in Plato's cave. We are in its catacombs, in its sewers, in virtual realities resembling those very catacombs. How, then, is this to be reversed - individually - through inspiration?

You must embody within yourself what remains of beauty, ethos, greatness, nobility, the aret? of all civilizations throughout history. That which was grandest among all great ideas, of the highest values that possessed a real impact and allowed for the preservation of what humanity truly signifies. The embodiment of human worth - you must reflect it within yourself, incorporate it. If you must build a citadel around your mind, erect a fortress around yourself, safeguarding human values, virtues, and humanitas.

And I myself am helpless here. Of course, I am corroded. Of course, I am permeated by this mediocrity, this indifference, this cruelty, hatred, and anger. I believe many people today experience the same. Yet without an antidote to these vices, to these monstrous evils that poison entire societies, cultures, and civilizations - there is no possibility of reversing them. When you destroy the fabric of the noosphere - that is, what you carry in mind, heart, and soul - it is exceedingly difficult to rebuild it.

I recall reading about the hormos dance among the ancient Greeks. Like glass beads, boys and girls danced. And through this dance, they instilled within themselves a certain paideia, a community. Today, the hormos dance has not been danced for centuries. People no longer sing at their work.

The true spirit of humanity has been stripped from people and handed over into the grip of some strange, illusory, ignorant Tartarism. It is very easy to destroy a tradition that grew organically across centuries, across decades - for all that is most beautiful grows organically over years - like love between a man and a woman. It is easy to destroy it, and then it requires further decades and centuries for it to grow anew among men. So if you must - be an ancient traditionalist, an antiquarian of human values, virtues, and beauty.

I stood then, smoking a cigarette upon the balcony, pondering what final words I would wish to utter, addressing the gods. Perhaps for a turn of fate in my life.

And to the woman I would love - upon my deathbed. If I were the first to die - men usually pass sooner - I would wish to say: "I promise that I shall love you forever," and depart.

Cathartic pain.

Yet neither life nor love ends in death. Nor freedom, nor liberty, nor the struggle for virtue.

This is an appeal to those among you who can gaze through the Medusa upon the shield of Athena - for whom it is transparent - recognize wisdom, recognize value and virtue, and strive to fight for them.

Not by squabbling in your political, social, and religious games, for there are things common to all men, at their very core. No one wishes to see their children or wives murdered. No one wishes to live in pain. Everyone would desire to be happy and free, governed by great men - wise men - who will embrace you and care for you.

On Human Nature, the Soul, and the Universe - The Philosophy of the Daimon

Lucretius was among the earliest known atheists. We, however, shall not follow in his footsteps; we shall focus instead upon the re-spiritualization of nature.

There exist adages stating that the root of man's character or ethos resides precisely within nature - nature is the exponent from which character derives. And as character is, so is fate - as is widely known. What, then, is nature?

Nature is a combination of inclinations - in other words, borrowing from Hindu terminology, karman - an element of stained energies, teleology (that is, directed aspirations), inherent qualities, and attributes. Materialistically and psychologically speaking, these are innate traits, hereditary, conditioned by environment, teachers, peers, our fathers and mothers. Spiritually speaking, they are metempsychosized by the daimon and developed throughout a lifetime.

Thus, nature can be innate, the soul can be innate, and the daimon likewise - endowing us with a distinct nature that is not purely materialistic, hereditary, evolutionary, or socialized.

What is karman? It is an assemblage of another foreign-sounding word: vasana. A vasana is that which stains pure energy, which is termed Shakti. Let us assume there exists a universal force, or a multiplicity of ontological forces in the universe, which to us are separated from one another - much like light which, in physical terms, enters a prism and refracts. That light is Shakti, whereas the vasanas are the colorants of the refracted rays - analogous to the electromagnetic spectrum.

Nature as a force: for instance, someone may possess a nature that is destructive, creative, synergistic, compassionate, tender - Venerean; or severe - Saturnine, stern. Nature may also be described through the Hippocratic and Galenic humors - choleric, melancholic, sanguine, phlegmatic - moist, dry, hot, cold, and so forth. This is, of course, a simplification, yet it creates a highly useful model. As the statistician George Box remarked: "All models are wrong, but some are useful."

There exist great natures and lesser natures. Great natures are expansive - they crave vision, create vision, and realize it. They can be dominant: "I desire my vision to triumph"; inspiring: "My vision inspires others"; despotic: "I demand that all follow my vision"; reformative: "I wish to enact change"; catalytic: "Let us transcend the status quo - fortify it, develop it, or alter it." They are like giants: "Let us construct a new system - demolish the old religious, political, or social one - or erect a new one upon the corpse of the former." This is an allusion to Alfred North Whitehead's Process and Reality.

Lesser natures do not seek to shape history. They are as they are - and there is no fault in this. "Live and let live." They dread change; they value comfort and an ordinary existence. They follow the system forged by great natures. They are the victims of the grand narrative and of the grand history that unfolds.

Movement and change within the element constitute a war of natures - whether standing opposed to one another or dwelling in peace. Coexisting natures may compensate for one another, prove compatible, or be entirely contradictory. They may attract through similarity or opposition - or repel according to the same principles.

The nature of the daimon or soul is the aggregate of the inclinations of all life experiences - both prior, innate ones, and posthumous ones. Sensory, mental, and spiritual experiences - in eternity. An unblemished mirror - none can deceive it. It pertains to nature - true nature. The daimon is that which it truly is - its character and transformations through occult, magical, and spiritual means; that which it has lived through - psychologically, psychosocially, biopsychically. It is the departure point post-mortem toward, let us say, the Bardo - the spiritual constitution of what we shall become after death - in what world we shall be reborn, whether organic, living, or inorganic and disembodied. It tolerates no lies.

This is a condition composed of that whereof it is made. Some may cry "injustice!", yet nature delights in hiding and tolerates only its own laws. Only human laws and justice stand in opposition to the justice of nature - physis, hyle, and that which is divine, providential.

That which is human - let us remember - is transitory.

All evil stems, among other things, from the friction of natures - nature and animals, human animals, human against human, violent, chthonic, demonic natures colliding with man, the clash of values, cultivated humanity, and biopsychological instincts, bestiality, and Tartarisms. Therefore, I do not perceive the world in terms of black and white - of absolute good and evil - but as a field of diverse natures entering into uncounted interactions with one another. From these clashes, harmonies, or conflicts emerges the effect of their operation - good or evil? It depends - for whom.

Nature knows no morality in our sense of the word. What to one is light, to another may be fire; what to one is healing, to another may be perdition. Every nature operates according to its own law - and that which we term "evil" is frequently simply a nature misunderstood, untamed, or contrary to our own, or to the civilized values we profess within a given paradigm. This does not imply an ultra-relativism, nor does it postulate universalism - one can discern justice within a galaxy spinning upon its axis - that majestic law, coordinates pointing toward uncounted metaphysical laws, reifying and embodying themselves to the measure of the authentic individuation of the individual and of society.

Stealing Heaven: Pagan Angels and Angelesses as the Epitome and Heroization of Mortals - The Pagan Angelology Colonized and Appropriated by Judeo-Christianity

The topic of this brief lecture shall be angelology. Most commonly, it is associated with the Judeo-Christian tradition as we know it today. Yet whence did this concept originate? From Judaism, Christianity, Islam? By no means exclusively so - there exist far earlier sources: angeli boni, Agathoi Daimones, the winged souls of perfected men and women.

What is the doctrine regarding angels in Christianity par excellence? For instance - can women be crowned as angels clad in the armor of a Thyrsus? According to Judeo-Christianity - absolutely not. According to Greek, Roman, or Etruscan beliefs - most certainly yes.

The culmination of a heroic, beautiful life was personification and heroization: Eroi = Mnemosyne = Aletheia. Through the sublimation of one's own soul unto perfection, a mortal could join the procession of gods and goddesses. I have mentioned here several depictions from the Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae (LIMC). I likewise recommend consulting the Thesaurus Cultus et Rituum Antiquorum (ThesCRA), which constitutes a highly precise and thoroughly researched source regarding ancient mystery cults, sacrifices, temples, and personnel.

I selected merely a few depictions from the lexicon to demonstrate how, for example, Aphrodite was portrayed winged - a winged lady in battle, a law-giving woman, a winged man. How ancient is this? These are Etruscan representations from a time long before Judeo-Christians developed or colonized the concept of angels.

The word "angel" itself derives from the Greek - angelos signifies a messenger. They were the messengers of the gods and goddesses in an ethereal, sublimated form, interacting with human beings - whether Judeo-Christianity wished it or not. If the heavens are guarded by freedom and greatness, why ought they to venerate the religion of the Jews or Christians? It is absurd.

Let us proceed to citations from Greek and Roman religion. The ancients conceptualized angels (angeloi) within the Roman Republic and Empire. I prefer dealing with republican and imperial ladies who - despite the influence of the Levant - did not vanish. The Judeo-Christians sought to transform them into demons, yet they failed to do so.

Rangar Cline's book, Ancient Angels: Conceptualizing Angeloi in the Roman Empire, describes the instance of the inscription "Angelus Bonus" on the Via Appia near Rome, where a good angel guided Vibia to a banquet. Visitors might feel a sense of confusion - most would associate such entities with Christianity, Judaism, or Islam. Yet this is erroneous - angels were present long before.

Attempts to impose the Jewish concept of Michael - the angel of the Jews - upon the temple of Apollo resulted in confusion: people knew not whether this Michael was a god, and thus began to pay him homage. Christians arrived later and declared: "No, this is not a god; it is a temple of a Jewish angel." Similar confusion occurred when Jewish Christians merged with the cult of Dionysus in Sicily. Consequently, there emerged endless orgies, sexual banquets, a guilt syndrome, and flagellation - a bloody chaos.

In the third chapter of Angels of the Pagan God, it is described how one might become an angelus bonus - a great muse, a great woman, or a great heroic angel. For example, epitaphs in Thera described the deceased as heroically translated to an inaccessible dwelling place - as an angelos. Earlier scholarship assumed these tombs belonged to Christians, yet this was mistaken.

Among 60 grave stelae bearing the inscription "Angelos", 39 display no surviving ornamentation, while 21 feature a cross symbol enclosed within a circle resembling a sun cross - not a Christian cross.

Thus we possess local, vernal varieties of angels - angeloi - and the Christian reaction: namely, the colonization of our noble pagan beliefs. In Judeo-Christian doctrine, a mortal - man or woman - cannot become an angel; they are beings created as such by their God. In Greek and Roman belief systems, a perfected human being could become not only a hero, but likewise an angelus bonus or an Agathos Daimon, a demigod, provided they underwent the appropriate initiations and sacraments.

Post-mortem, one could be as a goddess. Therefore, whenever I converse with a Christian and mention "angels," he responds: "Oh, you must be a believer." But I am a pagan. How can I believe in angels if I am a pagan? It is a pagan concept - the holy pagan, not Abraham.

Precisely to demonstrate this truth was this lecture conceived: to prove that the Levant colonized our theology, yet this does not imply it gained an audience with the gods.

How do I know this to be true? It is, of course, subjective. Yet I have been crowned with so many a philosopher's wreath by the splendid ladies of the ether and heavens that it serves as sufficient proof for me. I may be a wretch, but I am a wretch who is correct, and who preserves that fragment of nobility.

I. Cline, Rangar. 2011. Ancient Angels: Conceptualizing Angeloi in the Roman Empire. Leiden: Brill. https://doi.org/10.1163/ej.9789004194533.i-182. II. Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae (LIMC) III. Thesaurus Cultus et Rituum Antiquorum (ThesCRA)

A New Pagan Renaissance as the Sole Chance: The Judeo-Christian Logos Has Long Died - Reconcile Yourself to It

Know, therefore, that the ROTAS-SATOR square discovered in Pompeii possesses a Mithraic provenance. The Tenet Cross, as well as the Pater Noster (Our Father), was frequently mistakenly identified with the Christian tradition. In this codification, the father is Kronos, symbolized by the Cross, which likewise signifies Aion and Mithras. In the Mithraic tradition, the seventh rank was the Pater Patrum in Saturnine honors. Gematrically - and gematria is a Pythagorean art - from the cross one can derive the following numbers: six hundred and sixty-six (the number of the sun), seven (the Chaldean number of the known planets), three hundred and sixty (the sum of angles in a circle), two thousand five hundred and twenty, four hundred and thirty-two thousand, twenty-five thousand nine hundred and twenty, and two million one hundred and sixty thousand. Within the ROTAS-SATOR square, the following geometric figures can be inscribed: the cross, the triangle, the circle, and the square.

The sacred symbolism of the cross was not initiated by Christianity; whether it be the Egyptian Crux Ansata (Ankh) as a symbol of life or the Crux Gammata (swastika) as a symbol of the solar march, the cross was employed in the cult of the Alexandrian Aion as well as in Akkad. The priests of Isis and the Mithraists frequently tattooed or incised crosses upon their foreheads; the gesture of anointing the forehead with a cross is strictly Mithraic. There exists a theory that the cross symbolizes four flames during the phenomenon of a solar halo, connecting them with lines to complete a Hermetic image. Only after Constantine the Great did the cross - namely the crux quadrata (+), the crux capitata (a cross with the transverse line proportionately higher relative to the center), and the crux commissa (T) - become symbols of crucifixion. And the Crux Decussata (X), originally signifying Chronos (XRONOS), was superseded by Christ (XRISTOS). Until the fourth century, the nobilitas shared the cross with the Christians.

In Pompeii, we find the Pater Noster graffiti: Sautrane Va(le) / S / ROTAS / TENET / AREPO / SATOR / ANO / SAUTRAN(e) / VALE, which may have signified "Hail to thee, father Saturn-Kronos," and the recipient may have been Saturnus, Kronos, Chronos, Saeculum, Aion, or Zervan Akarana. His wheel represented infinite time, while his sickle signified both an agricultural role - according to Macrobius, it was Saturn who taught men the cultivation of crops - and his role as a karmic deity who harvested the crops of time, including the harvest of what men had accomplished upon earth. As a liminal deity of time, Saturn initiated and concluded eonic cycles.

There exists a phenomenon known as the logos of a society. It is the engine driving the noosphere of a society - a collection of political, social, religious, and ideological concepts contained within the noosphere; that is, within the minds, emotions, and hearts of mankind.

Now, there is something peculiar in the logos of Western civilization, erected upon a Greco-Roman foundation yet contaminated by Judeo-Christian systems of theology, morality, and ideology. This so-called Logos of Western Christian Civilization was compromised in the first half of the 20th century, regardless of the desires of selective thinkers. As one scholar from the Smithsonian Institution remarked, the "Logos" forfeited all pretense of morality, ethics, and ethos - bombarding Hiroshima and Nagasaki needlessly, and constructing Nazi extermination camps as the apotheosis of Western, Judeo-Christian civilization.

Today we frequently encounter individuals on the right of the political spectrum attempting to identify once more with this dying zombie-corpse of a logos. They believe that in doing so they can shield themselves against the onslaught of the realpolitik of the global noosphere, which is a state of vast chaos. Yet some recognize that to revitalize societies and their logos, as in the Renaissance, one must return to ancient times - to nobilitas, to pagan, non-Abrahamic values and virtues.

For all evil emerged from the Levant alongside the Judeo-Christian betrayal, disguised as "love," which degenerated into cannibalism, murder, and genocide. The Abrahamic religions - Judeo-Christianity, and subsequently Islam - were instruments of social engineering devised to subjugate the Arabs and their Noble Deities: Al-Uzza, Manat, and Allat, subjecting them to belief in a single, Jewish god. This brought about dire consequences throughout history: the rot and plague of belief systems that were illogical and insulted human reason, as was already emphasized in the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd centuries in Rome and Hellenized territories.

It took two thousand years to demonstrate that Judeo-Christian theologies and systems possess no coherent arguments. Blind faith failed to alter this even in a secularized age. Meanwhile, the theology of Nobilitas was constructed like temples and colonnades of arguments: hypotheses were posited and conclusions sought. Much like in ancient India, where philosophers and Brahmins gathered to debate the subtlest questions and arrive at conclusions regarding Divinity.

Remember, therefore, when the realpolitik of contemporary social strata, their shallow nature, and mediocrity surround you, Christians - boys and girls - your prayers remain ignored. Your claims and the thought that devotion to a religion founded upon blind faith in a Jewish god will render you valuable to the Heavens are illusory. The Starry Sky answers not those prayers.

What was nobilitas? It was the pagan concept of understanding: that if the universe and the Gods are Intellect, man must employ his own heroic intellect to ascend. Multiplied intelligence through intelligence, endurance through endurance, virtue through virtue. The model of the Chinese hero consisted in laying the foundations for the endurance of civilization - in eudaimonia, happiness, order, strength, power, and beauty.

It is not a matter of proving the truth of one religion over another, murdering one another in the name of dogmas. All evil flowed forth from the dirty waters of the Levant, and thither it shall return. Dei Sol Invictus, may the Providential Gods assist in this course of events.

And as for Judeo-Christianity and Islam, all mutations of the Abrahamic invention: preserve Pagan Europe, for such it has been in the heavens eternally. Down below, upon Earth, poisoned by false religions, men turned their faces from the Gods, who nevertheless never became demons - they simply ignored the Judeo-Christians who severed the initiatory threads of Ariadne.

If humanity chose to turn its face away from the great Providential Deities and pursue the path of blindness, ignorance, illusion, and attachment to a Levantine creed, that was its choice. It was warned; masters and mistresses warned repeatedly, yet it chose its own path - and now it reaps what it has sown.

NUN.GAL.MEŠ - honor to the souls of the stars bearing solar shields, intertwined with Holy Serpents, possessing great wings.

Pillars of Iram, Ubar, Eden, the Geological Deluge: The Kingdom of Shaddad - A Dream, a Journey, History

"Habibi," said a 30-year-old Arab woman working as a restaurant manager at the Marriott Hotel in Manama, Bahrain, "this is for you." It was an original scarab from the 12th Dynasty of Egypt, inscribed on the reverse with the hieroglyphs "Neb Neter San Tep", "The Lord Chosen by the Gods" - perhaps once belonging to a priest or prince of that era. Regrettably, I lost the scarab at the age of thirty. When I was a child, it would frequently manifest in different places around the room, as though coming to life and flying about during the night while I slept.

When I was a child in the United Arab Emirates, visiting my mother who held a contract as a musician, I vividly remember Shark Island near Fujairah. On that island, it was the giant crabs I feared most; I did not even cross to the far side - the sharks were the least of my concerns.

I also recall visiting the oldest mosque in the United Arab Emirates, situated beside a castle. As an eight-year-old boy, I urinated inside the ruins of that mosque, unaware that I was defiling their sacred place. I might have thought Allah would be enraged with me then, but I believed in Allat, the Mother of Night, and so I paid it little mind. Shaddad was an ancient king of Eden. The Arabs say he was punished, yet I personally do not believe it.

Iram of the Pillars, Ubar of the Columns, the Kingdom of Eden of Shaddad.

In Blender 3D, I crafted a visualization that closely resembled a dream I had as an eight-year-old boy, somewhere between Al-Ain and Muscat. Of this I shall speak later. First, a quotation from Lawrence of Arabia's Seven Pillars of Wisdom. He wrote of love and freedom, of the desert, of columns and stars that were meant to shine with the eyes of the beloved.

Subsequently, I encountered a fascinating mention in the commentary of Al-Tabarani. He was a great historian of the Arab tribes, writing in the 9th-10th century, if I recall correctly. He described biblical elements in the Quran, in Surah 89, accompanied by exegesis. In one of the volumes, there is an interpretation of Iram of the Pillars. We learn that God termed it "the city of columns" on account of the emerald and sapphire pillars residing beneath the city.

Such pillars were precisely what I saw in my dream when, as an eight-year-old child, I visited my mother in the Emirates. I flew alone on a plane from Warsaw to Dubai a few months after the First Gulf War, entrusted to the care of a flight attendant - a novel and thrilling experience for me. My mother held a contract as a harpist in a hotel restaurant, and I attended both an Arabic and a British school during our stay.

I possess few memories from that period, yet I recall with remarkable clarity the dream of a magnificent subterranean realm. In Abu Dhabi, whenever I escaped my mother's guardianship as a child, I would dash to an Arab who always gave me sweets in his branded confectionery shop. As we traveled by night from Al-Ain to Muscat, I dreamed of monumental, immensely thick pillars - emerald green, glistening in the dark, and covered in ancient symbols. I dreamed that I descended there with an archaeological expedition through a narrow corridor with meticulously carved stairs. I was falling asleep on the back seat of the car my mother had rented, gazing out at the desert bathed in moonlight and listening to the music of Spyro Gyra.

When I was 29 years old, I authored an article on this subject. Now I am 37, and the imagery of that dream remains as vivid and stirring as ever. I continue to believe that the ancient city of Ubar, known also as the City of Columns, lies beneath the dunes of the Rub" al Khali, awaiting discovery. Yet the Arabs claim that only the ants have found it, and that men shall not touch those sacred grounds.

When I was still working and earning sufficiently, I desired to employ modest means to hire a jeep with a driver in Oman and venture into the Rub" al Khali, if only to feel that place once more. Yet this proved impossible for numerous reasons.

There were many attempts to uncover this city. Satellite imagery near the Wabar craters revealed merely a trading fort with caves underneath, located at coordinates 21°31'N and 50°28'E. It was deemed to be Ubar, and many researchers closed the matter. Yet in the Quran, it is explicitly written that it was a subterranean city.

The Holy Book of the Arabs states: "Hast thou not seen how thy Lord dealt with "Aad, with Iram of the columns? These were the first descendants of "Aad, son of Iram, son of Shem, son of Noah."

So spoke Ibn Ishaq, son of Ishaq. It was to them that Allah dispatched His messenger, yet they rejected and opposed him. Therefore, Allah saved him and those who believed with him, destroying the rest with a furious, roaring wind.

The designation "of the columns" arose because they dwelt in houses supported by latticed pillars. They were the mightiest people of their time - both in physical stature and in power. Thus they were reminded of this blessing and bidden to employ their strength in obedience to the Lord who created them. This is noteworthy.

The antediluvian period can be linked to the time of the Wabar craters approximately 14,000 years ago, when a bolide impact occurred there. Based upon calculations, the minimum original mass of this celestial body was determined to be roughly 3,500 tons, with the kinetic energy of the impact equal to 10-12 kilotons of TNT equivalent. This is approximately $10^{21}$ ergs, comparable to the atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima in August 1945. Naturally, it was not an atomic bomb, but a meteorite.

These values are approximate. Most likely, the bolide entered the atmosphere with an energy exceeding 100 kilotons of TNT, losing most of its energy during an oblique entry - probably at an angle between 20 and 45 degrees relative to the horizon - before striking the desert. It arrived from a direction of approximately 300 degrees, that is, from the northwest, from the direction of modern Riyadh - the capital of contemporary Saudi Arabia.

The region of the Rub" al Khali was not always a desert. From the inception of cuneiform script, at least since the Uruk IV period, there existed a legend of an ancient land where men were said to attain immortality. It was called the Kingdom of Dilmun. However, historical Dilmun was situated further north at a later period, in the region of modern Bahrain and Manama. Conversely, ancient Magan lay to the south, where Oman stands today.

Excavations in the Sumerian city of Eridu - the place where, according to the Sumerians, they came ashore to found the first settlements - uncovered archaeological sequences reaching back to 5500 BC, the Ubaid period. Does this not sound like an Edenic homeland, an Ur-Heimat? German researchers who conducted studies aboard the vessel Meteor in 1969 suggested that the Persian Gulf underwent desiccation and turned into a desert following the great glaciations in the period of 60,000-10,000 BC. This aligns with the dating of the antediluvian Sumerian King List recorded by Berossus the Chaldean.

It is a rather singular theory, yet let us proceed further. Upon a long, dry plain lay oases and gardens - that is, "Edin." In Ancient Arabic, "Edin" signifies precisely a "long, dry, fertile plain." Only a few settlements and a small incense trading center survived there, which was mistakenly identified as Iram. Most likely, however, that was a much later phenomenon.

Following the inundation, the sea level rose by three meters around 5000 BC, reaching its current level only around 2000 BC. This suggests that the Sumerians migrated northward at that time - to the plains of the Tigris and Euphrates, the territory of modern Mesopotamia.

Subsequent history remains unclear. It is not precisely known how the genetic material of the Sumerians developed, but if anything can be asserted, it is that they possessed neither Indian, South Asian, nor Semitic roots. Known genetic samples stem only from later mixtures, when the Sumerians intermingled with northern populations - as reflected in contemporary data. If any Sumerian genetic code has been preserved, it is most closely related to the Marsh Arabs of Iraq.

The rate of sea level rise slowed between 14,000 and 12,000 years ago, during the Younger Dryas period. Then followed another phase - the so-called Meltwater Pulse 1B, a sudden rise in water levels between 11,500 and 11,000 BC. According to Fairbanks, sea levels may have risen by as much as 28 meters at that time, though subsequent studies suggest it was considerably less.

The "Deluge" was recorded geologically around 14,600-13,500 BC, bringing to an end the reign of the antediluvian kings of Eden. Ubar - Iram - on the other hand, connects with the bolide impact in the region of the Rub" al Khali, the Wabar craters. Some sources claim, however, that this occurred much later, between 6400 and 2500 BC.

Curiously, following this impact, numerous black stones were formed, which were later utilized to sculpt statues of gods in the time of Gudea, Patesi of Lagash (2244-2124 BC). Who knows - perhaps the Black Stone of the Kaaba was forged from this very material? Perhaps also the stone of the goddess Magna Mater in Rome, brought during the Second Punic War, originated from the same source. It remains a grand mystery.

Homo sapiens sapiens appeared approximately 300,000 years ago. Contemporary humans descend from a mutation of mitochondrial DNA dating to roughly 120,000 years ago - the remaining mitochondrial lineages did not survive. This implies that we all share common "mothers," while other branches became extinct.

According to Berossus, the antediluvian period lasted 120 saroi of years. I have calculated that one saros corresponds to 3,600 years, yielding 432,000 years. On the tablet, 127 full saroi are recorded, amounting to 459,000 years of that same period.

According to genetic research, modern humans carrying mitochondrial DNA reached southern Arabia approximately 90,000-55,000 years ago via the so-called Southern Arabian Corridor. From there, they migrated further north. Several such "Out of Africa" migration corridors existed, but that would require additional sources which I shall not cite here.

With this, I conclude. Perhaps it is indeed only the ants that shall uncover the secret. I myself wished to organize an expedition utilizing aircraft and LIDAR equipment to scan the terrain, yet it was not possible. Perhaps one day someone else shall make this discovery - if indeed that city exists.

In Honor of Nyx - A Nocturnal Discourse on Presence, Absence, Eros, and Thanatos

This shall be a fluid discourse on presence. Presence and absence.

Presence is something we perceive during déja vu, in the company of those who are close to us. Even when we sense the presence of nightmares and shadows - something indefinite that manifests as we fall asleep, or when we find ourselves at night in the midst of a forest. In such moments, we can feel an all-encompassing presence - diffused across many entities, in nightmares, in nocturnal creatures and beasts that remain unseen. It is the fissures in the darkness that evoke fear within us. It is the omnipotent presence of the eternal forest that makes us tremble.

We humans are "solar" beings. We have scarcely emerged from the caves, trembling in dread of the moon and the nocturnal hunt. Today, we dwell in cities illuminated by streetlamps and imagine that we have achieved dominion over the night, delighting in its charms at the very heart of the surging tide of Mother Nyx. Yet it is not merely about the darkness itself nor the night when we discover the light and illumination that safeguard and guide us. For it is the night that is the supreme teacher. It is she who awakens longing - for the stars, for union with the divine beneath the starry vault of night. Perhaps for the womb of the stars, just as we emerge into the light of day from the wombs of our mothers. Death is another womb - it decides where we shall be reborn: in ethereal realms, in animal kingdoms, in hells, or in higher, celestial spheres.

Thus, presence - the presence of our beloved ones. We know the presence of people around us as we walk the city streets, yet to us they remain anonymous. That is a denied presence. They do not exist for us until we come to know them, familiarize them, love them. Then they become close. There exists, therefore, presence, absence, and the closeness of all things. Do they feel present in this room? I myself am detached. I feel as though a mask were speaking through me. Did I notice the presence of the demon standing in the corner, who subsequently shifted? Had I not seen him, I would have sensed his presence as something undefined. By beholding him, presence becomes tamed. Hence, things absent yet present awaken in us fear, sorrow, and yearning. It is they, present within memories, that lead us toward the supreme delights and the greatest terrors.

I was once in a house in the mountains called Presence. It was the most haunted building I have ever beheld - teeming with Germanic forest witches, replete with woodland and mountain entities who disrelish mortals encroaching upon their domains. Fleshy, corporeal beings with bones, joints, skin, and mind, living by breath between two deaths and two lives. There lie Eros and Thanatos. Within Thanatos we discover both Eros and himself; within Eros we discover Thanatos - embodied and disembodied.

My soul is embodied within a physical frame, hence corporeality itself possesses an erotic component. When I die, my body shall belong to Thanatos, and if my soul dissolves into a black shadow, it too shall fall to deep Thanatos. Yet if, following the death of my body, the soul is reborn into a new life, that shall not be death, but Eros within Thanatos. From the perspective of the mortal, I shall be dead, and the soul non-existent. From the perspective of the soul, I shall live on in another dimension. From the perspective of the spirit, I shall be immortal, beholding the living as though they were the dead.

I shall then view corporeal existence as a spirit, as a soul, as death - as Thanatos embodied within the realm of Aphrodite's nature.

What, then, is full presence? It is agape - the sense of supreme presence within ecstasy, within awe, within great love, within fulfillment. And when are we absent? In black melancholy, in the dark nights of the soul, in cosmic alienation. Then we are absent, though physically present.

Therefore, I wish you full presence and engagement in every moment of life, for the time of absence shall arrive. And may your loved ones ever remain present - if they have departed, then within memory; if they have passed, then as living souls and spirits.

Too many times have I entered the realms of spirits - both the erotic and the thanatarchic. I seek no answers, for I possess that which I call certainty. Some inquire whether there is life after death. I do not question it. I possess certainty, for I have experienced it all too often - epistemologically, experientially, empirically, and even through senses transcending the fundamental ones.

Much as in metaphysics - one may wander through deserts, imagining one has found something. Yet when one lives metaphysics, when one experiences divinity, there emerge complex certainties or complex theologies. At times accurate, at times not. It is ever merely an approximation. Yet so long as it functions for you, enabling you to take your fate and destiny after death into your own hands, sustained by the gods, it is sufficient to know that the soul of the world is brimming with presence.

It is a matter of perception and mode of vision. If you perceive the world as dead, the cosmos as dead - it signifies that you are dead within. The astronauts who journeyed to the Moon took with them the spiritual wastelands of Earth - and found nothing there. One of the astronauts of the Apollo 10 mission heard divine choirs, the chants of the Muses of Selene. He pondered whether it was radio interference or equipment malfunction. He came to his senses and forgot it. It was all recorded in the transcripts of the mission.

Do not, therefore, bring with you wastelands and death. A shift in perspective causes you to behold the world as a soul - numinous, organic, and grand - and to participate within it. You cease fleeing from hunger and cosmic alienation; you cease plummeting into the vast void like a dead soul.

This shift in perspective - beholding the world as divine, as panentheistic perfection and fullness, with diverse harmonies and cacophonies, with entropy, movement, the vibration of particles, forces, and great ontological powers - ensures that you participate within it. You are no longer alone. You are no longer in absence. You are perfectly present, for you abide within perfect presence.

"Split" - Psychiatry and Magic, or Psyche Embodied

Technical Disclaimer

This text constitutes a speculative and interdisciplinary lecture wherein the languages of psychopathology, psychiatry, and metaphysics are combined in an illustrative manner. References to mental disorders - including dissociative identity disorder and schizophrenia - do not correspond to the diagnostic classifications of the DSM-5 or ICD-11 and ought not to be treated as clinical descriptions.

The material does not constitute medical, psychiatric, or psychological advice and may not be utilized for diagnostic or therapeutic purposes. The text should be read strictly as theoretical and metaphorical deliberations situated at the intersection of psychology, philosophy, and metaphysics.

Very well.

Thus, the psychopathology of multiple personality disorder intertwined with metaphysics. A few days ago, I watched the film entitled Split. It was a film concerning dissociative identity disorder, yet it inspired within me observations regarding multiple personality in conjunction with certain psychoses. A film somewhat dramatized and thrilling, shared with me by a lady kind enough to show it.

I should like to commence this lecture with a brief quotation from Austin Osman Spare, the British magician - a paraphrase of his work - stating that consciousness itself is continuous, yet it can be animated by various personae, whether through regression, metempsychosis, reincarnation, or latent identities that we carry with us every day.

Thus, the development of personality in multiple personality disorder, when it is split, is remarkably similar to the internalization of astral larvae (consider the astral portraits of Witkacy) in schizophrenic voices, albeit in an exoteric sense. When a schizophrenic exotericizes sub-personalities or larvae burrowing through his mind and connecting with his auditory core and Broca's area - which feed his mental sphere, focus of energy, attention, and concentration in a feedback loop that cannot be reversed until the larvae themselves are purged from the mind of that schizophrenic patient - it resembles shamanism rather than psychiatry.

Whereas in the case of multiple personality disorder, these sub-personalities are internalized. You enact them. You believe in them. You are them. You cannot separate them. It is a reflection and internalization of personae. What the mind thinks, it becomes. You are truly devoted to that which you believe. You enact an identity. You are not an actor performing behind a mask - you are that identity.

Thus, factors such as intelligence, acting capability, susceptibility to change, character traits, charisma, and genius exert a profound influence upon what type of personality shall emerge. For instance, a psychopath will develop a different multiple personality disorder than an individual with histrionic psychopathological dynamics. An average person will also be more direct in these matters when MPD manifests.

How does this occur? We possess a strong ego, and a trauma transpires. Something goes awry with our mind - not necessarily a traumatic environment, stress, and so forth - and it shatters. Thus, consciousness - the ego - cannot sustain the integrity of identity and begins to decompensate, fracturing into sub-identities. Let us term them masks. Fully enacted masks, as I mentioned: an actor steps onto the stage and performs an identity, yet he remains a strong ego. An individual with MPD is split and is no actor, but fully lives all of these identities.

And let us observe where metaphysics enters. Ontological, hidden, masked realities. These splits can be animated by the "other, ethereal, occult side." Matters concerning the ghost in the shell, the ghost in the mind, spirits within the shattered identities of a patient with a split personality. This, then, is an intersection of psychiatry, cognitive science, psychopathology, and metaphysics - of ontological realities and diverse worlds, dimensions, and entities that may, or may not, exploit this or blindly execute their own will.

We thus have logical embodyings, such as incarnations, possessions, emanations, avatarizations, and habitations. Hence, the development of natures and identities through embodiment. Your nature can evolve through such possessions, not merely through your own mind.

For example, we begin with a strong ego. Subsequently, it splits into two identities. This is sustained by consciousness, a continuous line. And then possession may occur, animating one of these identities, and something goes awry because we possess an identity that is controlled. If we possess a single, solid identity, we can be blind to it and annihilate it. If we possess multiple personalities, we can be blind and close to one of them, yet there exists a point that can be integrated.

If we are conscious of our consciousness through the Ajna, the Sushumna nadi, the daimon, the Socratic genius, or Juno, we can integrate and develop it. We can absorb these natures and identities in order to evolve. Thus, there exists also a co-development. In multiple personality disorder, we have an identity that is a regular dynamic of the mind, explained in a highly complex manner by psychiatry, psychology, and developmental psychology. We also have an embodied identity that is animated by an external entity. Exceedingly complex, is it not? Emerging identities are co-developed through embodiment and the dynamics of the mind.

Consider the spirits that inhabit you - beyond mere reductionist psychiatry and psychology. We inhabit an indivisible world in which occult, invisible forces can at times intervene. And then there emerges either a problem or an expansion: destruction, madness, obsession, psychosis. Yet there may also emerge genius, expansion, greatness, catalysis, and inspiration by the Muses.

Natures attract one another toward similarity, yet they can also be drawn by aversion, attempting to transform you into themselves. Thus, natures seek to absorb you - to render you similar or hostile. Likewise in rhetoric, when we attempt to persuade others to a certain idea, we strive to make them like ourselves. It is a form of ideological or religious possession.

Identities evolve. Imagine, then, that you possess one that is uninfluenced, evolving psychodynamically. A second - embodied - expands, mutates, and can be animated by multiple entities, developing into a chaotic frenzy or a crystallized intelligence.

Experiencing traumas yet cultivating self-reflection and self-understanding, we tend to crystallize something termed the Holy Guardian Angel, the daimon. It is like a Socratic control center. A crystallized spirit possesses greater power, understanding, and influences you as the finest version of yourself. Yet it must first crystallize and be initiated.

You may possess a platinum-class ego, yet without self-knowledge and temperance, you cannot weigh external influences against that which constitutes your nature. And you do not know your nature until you confront that which it is not.

If self-knowledge leads to the control center of the genius - that is sublimation and rectification. Then you become more integrated, intelligent, and evolved. If this is lacking, it leads to splitting, alienation, and psychopathology.

The threshold? If we possess multiple identities, both our own and "possessed" ones, we reach a point of decompensation - lambda. Lambda is the boundary beyond which the mind plummets into delirium or madness.

Respect your spirits, therefore, and remember that not every madman is dangerous. There exist in the world many people, many minds, and cognitive phenotypes that have attained a very high level of understanding regarding these models of the mind - far higher than many might expect.

How the Abrahamic Religions Discredited Metaphysics Through Irrationalism, While the Enlightenment and the Scientific Revolution Annihilated It: The Fragments of Antiquity

Witch hunts - do you desire a return to witch hunts and the burning of witches? Absolutely not. For this reason, the Enlightenment project and the Scientific Revolution sought to rid humanity of all superstitious belief systems, the tyranny of superstition, unprofessional wishful thinking, folk magic, and the brutalization of learned magic and philosophy that had governed so many across the centuries.

The fundamental flaw, however, was that neither the Enlightenment project nor the Scientific Revolution took into account that these objective realities of the invisible exist, and that sooner or later they shall intrude upon the human realm, upon human life. The objective was to secularize humanity, endowing men with reason to disbelieve erroneous superstitions. Yet the ultimate consequence was the discrediting of every learned science of magic and philosophy; they were cast aside, and the last "magicians" of rational thought were relegated to the ranks of charlatans or naive fools.

When the Enlightenment and the Scientific Revolution failed to integrate these phenomena into an ordered theology, metaphysics, or Hermeticism, the rift began. Today, all manner of fringe New Age groups, disparate belief systems, and individuals - who feel compelled to believe in something, even if it be utter absurdity - encroach upon the void, sowing cognitive chaos and confusion within the human world, within minds, souls, and hearts.

What every magician of rational thought strives to achieve is to transmit these truths concerning invisible forces - perceptible to a few - and to situate them within Hermeticism through the most rigorous interpretation possible, organizing them so that humanity does not become entirely lost within them. Every post-Enlightenment and post-Scientific Revolution atheist contends that this is not a demon-haunted world, that there is nothing beyond - which signifies merely that he has experienced no direct instances of metaphysical operation. Precisely like psychiatrists: if they have not experienced it, they can destroy the experience from a sociological standpoint, annihilating it, rationalizing it, and explaining to themselves that it was merely a hallucination.

The objective, however, is not to convince humanity that such worlds exist, but to provide them with the tools to navigate them should they encounter them. The primary thesis is that the Abrahamic religions, through their inherent illogicality and irrationalism, compromised the rationally constructed, intellective metaphysics of the Pagans, Hindus, and Buddhists. Consequently, in the eyes of Western scholars, they compromised all metaphysics - relegating it to psychologisms and naive realism. Vulgar reductionism and the nascent study of neurotheology possess far more coherence than the mud-slinging battles between atheists and - what? Pagan theology, mathematical-philosophical in nature? No - Judeo-Christian and Islamic doctrines. Which of the militant atheists, Judeo-Christians, or Muslims has ever even approached ancient, Pagan theology? They possess not the slightest comprehension of it. My goal is to forge a bridge between ancient philosophies, learned magic, and modernity.

When that foundation collapsed, and the Enlightenment and Scientific Revolution veered toward crude empiricism, naive materialism, and universal reductionism, the outcome culminated in complete disaster. Metaphysics was fractured, and those walking the path of a rational, highly skeptical, yet learned metaphysics and magic were mocked - cast into the same vessel as the "cargo cults" of modernity. The Enlightenment and Scientific Revolution assured humanity that no such phenomena exist. And when individuals experience them, they are informed that they suffer from hallucinations and are promptly psychiatricized - and thus metaphysics is eradicated within the human mind. Ontologically, it functions independently of humanity, like the cosmos itself, yet within human perception it dies alongside the flames of Hecate - not with a resounding explosion, but with a quiet, disgraced tear.

Returning to that which we know: we face two distinct threats to the modern world today - the discrediting of metaphysics and the annihilation of all metaphysics. In truth, they are one and the same.

Charlatans and Intellectual Humility, Metaphysical Experiences, Ideological and Religious Possessions, and Prejudices

What is the primary enemy of knowledge, science, metaphysics, and philosophy? It is ignorance; it is illusion and delusion. Observing so many New Age groups, individuals playing the role of guru, and all the surrounding accouterments, I understand it. I can critique it, yet I wished to comprehend how it functions. The mechanism within the mind of a schizophrenic is remarkably similar. For instance, when they encounter an anomaly, some experience that slightly destabilizes them - though not to the extent of rendering them completely mad - what transpires? They construct an interpretation upon that experience. And that interpretation can be entirely erroneous.

If you possess intellectual humility, you attempt to measure, to observe from various perspectives, playing with it as though it were a toy, pondering: "perhaps it is thus, or perhaps otherwise." For this reason, never in my writings, theories, or numerous experiences have I claimed to possess what might be termed absolute truth, absolute certainty - something known with one hundred percent finality. The predicament arises when individuals from New Age "clans" or religious fundamentalists fabricate false information, subsequently constructing further, increasingly fallacious arguments upon those foundations. In this manner, an entire architecture of delusion is erected, and they peddle this rubbish to others. A sprawling system of illusions comes into being. It is said that it is exceedingly difficult to wrench a madman from the fortress of his deeply rooted, erroneous convictions and interpretations regarding the workings of the world.

Therefore, even when you encounter metaphysical, spiritual, and similar experiences, I would advise maintaining a solid foundation - elementary knowledge drawn from the hard sciences, social sciences, and philosophy. If you wish to delve into a particular tradition, say Greco-Roman paganism, it is wise to meet the gods halfway: conduct research, consult academic literature, gather the necessary information, and only then discern what proves effective. That is the posture of humility. Even then, you do not uncover everything, nor do you possess definitive, infallible truths - unlike certain Christian fundamentalists who declare: "Jesus is Lord and God," and there the matter ends. Yet whence do they know this? They do not know - they possess blind faith. And blind faith operates under many guises - in ideologies, in the New Age, in religious fanaticism.

This is precisely what constitutes possession by ideology, possession by religion, possession by belief systems. These individuals are merely "possessed" by them. And how better to exploit human beings than through those who are enslaved by their own convictions, religions, illusions, and ignorance?

Thus, one must remain honest with oneself at every turn, vigilant regarding one's cognitive biases: assessing what portion of a given matter may contain truth, how one perceives it, how one interprets it. Naturally, we occasionally become radicalized when something provokes our ire, yet beyond such moments, we should strive for openness. That is a noble posture - openness understood not as naivety, but as critical thinking that permits the assimilation and analysis of information in order to construct superior, more effective systems of knowledge.

Openness does not signify wandering through a New Age supermarket or a religious "candy shop" and selecting everything, proclaiming: "yes, I am open." It does not mean accepting all things without a shadow of criticism, but rather with discernment and critical thought.

A word of caution - beware of what renders someone an arrogant, stubborn dogmatist with "intense" experiences. Usually, it pertains to enduring a personal hell in life, coupled with a lack of patience toward others - toward the total gibberish of those who proclaim themselves experts, gurus, and authorities listened to and watched by hundreds, if not thousands, purchasing their rubbish. Authority and expert knowledge must be hard-won; regrettably, in today's instant-culture, such currency is not valued. This occurs because people open their eyes, ears, and minds to any meaningless drivel that simply organizes a complex world for them, simultaneously allowing them to reinforce their existing beliefs or germinate new, entirely fallacious ones that correlate with their cognitive-behavioral imprint of emotional-charismatic applause.

From my experience in the "magical business," individuals who truly possess genuine experience remain hidden from all this filth. They have no desire to parade themselves or parade their knowledge, for they refuse to cast pearls before swine - knowing that the swine will devour them, distort them, and ultimately devour the givers themselves. The crisis emerges when the self-proclaimed masters are themselves the swine, vending manure to the public - that is a grave issue. Let me then take this yoke upon myself, not as a master, but as an experienced individual, to speak in Socratic irony of matters about which one ought properly to remain silent.

Always question your authorities and masters, not as an iconoclast, but in a critical and sincere spirit - respect your teachers, yet think creatively. I have learned that when I question the great authorities in modern occultism, they frequently possess no answers - instead, they exert every effort to prevent me from raising objections to their substantive claims. I discovered that many among them are individuals with backgrounds riddled with deficiencies, often mere compilers who have no connection whatsoever to praxis.

Whence, then, do I derive knowledge? I possess the Gift of Second Sight - I behold the "other side" and philosophize upon it. From first-hand experience, I extract philosophies and theories. I do not attempt to sell nonsense to anyone simply because I have had a "vision" - that remains merely an interpretation, as I consistently emphasize, nor do I lay claim to matters of which I have no comprehension; furthermore, I demand no faith from others in what I behold; the remainder remains interpretation, personal, fraught with flaws and imperfections. People in the light of metaphysics engage in doxology; they hold an "opinion," more or less balanced, illuminated by other disciplines.

Meanwhile, there exist those second-hand "occultists" - self-proclaimed, grand interpreters - who possess not the slimmest notion of what they are dealing with. They have read a few books, gleaned a fragment of experience here and there, and suddenly transform into oracles - a spectacle I find amusing.

And what transpires when you are arrogant and refuse to lick the boots of such idiots? They fear you - you possess greater knowledge and experience; you can challenge their authority, even destroy their reputation, so they prefer to destroy yours.

My counsel to anyone in the "magical business" is this: remain skeptical of everything, question your masters, employ reason. If you possess no personal experiences nor the capacity to witness with your own eyes the demonstration of the subtle art of magic, do not buy into it; healthy skepticism is far superior to guru-ology and surrendering your mental faculties to another who will execute the task in a cultish and foolish manner.

Be skeptical, for all things come with time. It is a matter of perseverance and precise alignments in time and space that cause events to unfold. Yet if any Order, magical Fraternity, or master declares to you: "this is precisely how it is" - ask questions. Whence do you derive this knowledge? What have you experienced? Why do you maintain that this experience demands this specific interpretation? Relying upon this tradition, have you arrived anywhere?

Question your masters. If they are truly masters, they will be capable of answering wisely, knowledgeably, and from experience: "I think thus, I have read this, I have experienced that, and therefore I infer such and such."

So ask, ask, ask. It is not a matter of questioning like a fool, but of adopting an interrogative posture - interrogate your masters, interrogate your authorities. If they respond wisely, rigorously, with knowledge and experience, inspiring you - you may trust them to a degree. Yet never trust in everything. Do not surrender yourself entirely to any master or mistress. Learn from them that which you yourself deem wise, useful, and valuable.

Present times are infested with charlatans and hucksters presenting you with ready-made absurdity. You follow their philosophies, which they themselves have never verified and regarding whose operation they possess not the slightest comprehension. And when someone raises a hand and says: "Hey, sir, madam, you are entirely mistaken. It is written otherwise here and here. I have experienced this and that - have you experienced it? Have you read this? Do you know this quotation? Whence do you know this?" - then they respond: "Why, we are the masters! Our flocks obey us! That man is a devil, Satan himself, he is evil, he possesses low vibrations, do not listen to him!" - they will invent any nonsense to cement their flocks in the conviction of their infallibility.

And that is precisely how it functions, even in the world of the occult. Cultism. And yet, we are all a little mad in this business. But some among us possess more experience than the rest - and prefer to remain hidden. I deliver this discourse merely because I am weary of the volume of filth pouring forth from these stables of fraudsters. And there is no one to clean up after them.

Therefore listen, you masters and mistresses of Masonic orders, of magical assemblies: cease peddling your nonsense. For you contribute to the proliferation of illusions and ignorance in this world. If you have no conception of what you speak - do not sell it to the people. Thank you.

On Pagan Battle Prayer: Life's Blood

Plutarch asserted that it is the defeated, the enslaved, and the barbarians who pray upon their knees. The spectacle of those kneeling before a priest and a corpse - repentant, dark spirits who dare to style themselves human, performing self-flagellating gestures before the god of the Hebrews, self-enslaved with souls bound by falsehood, sealing themselves as the property of death, believing that they mark their lives with affirmation. How, then, did the nobilitas, the pagans, pray? Above all, through a magnificent, heroic life that conquers suffering, paving a path via philosophy toward the divine intellect. The pagans prayed standing erect, raising their hands toward the stars, toward the vaults of heaven, through invocation and reception; these prayers were not in vain, but in asking for a wise resolution to matters, they brought forth wise responses in life, demanding wisdom to discern the teachings received from the high heavens.

How is it that humanity has been stripped of freedom, nobility, the lofty virtues of the nobilitas, and the responsibility for all that to which they bear witness before the Gods? Replaced by what, precisely? They exist like corpses from birth unto the grave, never tasting the depth of the tempest of a beautiful, potent life, scarcely mistaking their experiences for something real, echoing like truths. The sword pointing toward the stars, stepping proudly through the forest of stratagems, delusions, and ignorance, severing them into splinters, crushing the skulls of the opponents" lies beneath its feet - such is Aletheia, mindful of her origins; such is Dike, like victory, which, despite the furious assaults of adversaries, preserves her nature, yielding not a single inch of ground.

Indeed, whither has vanished the greatness of the man who does not kneel, but stands - standing as a testament to his own indomitability, proclaiming his presence before the stars through deed? Where are those who prayed with the fire of life, with deeds so brilliant that the gods gazed down in delight, beholding the reflection of their own power, of their immaculate intellects unifying through an idea with the subject of their actions within men? This has been supplanted by a whimpering servitude, the groan of tormented souls that, rather than seeking sublimity, wallow in the mire of humility, as though the bending of the neck were a virtue rather than a disgrace. In former times, prayer was the flight of the eagle, the acuity of the serpent; it was a challenge hurled at fate, an ascent toward the heights to receive from the hands of the gods an answer in the form of courage, wisdom, and victory. Today, prayer has become a plea for alms, an admission of one's own paltry nature, the signing of a decree howling in chains against oneself.

Here lies the distinction between those who loved life and those who chose death while yet alive: the former took destiny into their own hands, wielding the sword of discernment, untroubled by the threat of its blade wounding them; the latter surrendered the sword into foreign hands, binding their hopes to a foreign will, to foreign wrath, to foreign absolution. Oh, we lived in the light of day, in the majesty of the night - in courage and without compromise toward truth; whereas they tremble like shadows, like spineless larvae, concealing themselves in darkness, in prayers for a mercy they shall never comprehend.

And yet true prayer is a deed; it is the heroic gesture of an upright man; it is the gaze turned toward Sol Invictus; it is a path forged through thorns not to debase oneself, but to ascend. It is a dialogue with eternity through the grandeur of the present day, through the fortitude of decision, through indomitability before obstacles. It is the testimony that divinity dwells within man - not as guilt, not as a burden, but as a flame that neither time nor the threat of nothingness, nor death in its infernal perversions, can extinguish.

Thus prayed the nobilitas of old - with a life that itself became a hymn. And thus the gods answered - not with a whisper of solace, but with a thunderbolt that tempered the soul, not with the promise of reward, but with a challenge that elevated man above that herd incapable of liberating itself from the instruments of torture with which they bound themselves!

Sociology of Ignorance - How Unawareness Shapes Power, Politics, and Society: A Summary from a Former Intelligence Studies Student

Sociology of ignorance - what precisely is it? It is a branch of epistemological sociology, or the sociology of knowledge, which, despite appearances, is relatively recent. It concerns how we structure our understanding, how we know, in what manner we remain unaware of knowledge, information, and data, and how we structure our ignorance, our lack of knowledge, our nescientia. Indeed, this is exceedingly intriguing, for the vast majority of power may rest upon ignorance. All psychological operations, all social engineering - are anchored in ignorance. There is no need to inform the masses regarding certain operations. There exists a defined concept of secrecy, a regulation of data across various departments, a regulation within corporations. Need to know: what is it that you must know? Must you know everything of which you are likely unaware? Yet a well-informed citizen ought to know much. Thus, the less you know, the more bound you are to the immediate present, the more blind you become, and the more likely it is that you are utterly undone.

Thus, in this guiding quotation from the Routledge International Handbooks - specifically a handbook dedicated to ignorance studies:

"Not ignorance, but the ignorance of ignorance, is the death of knowledge."

Now, certain varieties of ignorance that I particularly appreciate are delineated here. This serves as an example of corporate ignorance, yet it can be extended to other domains of life. Now, I graduated long ago; I studied intelligence. It was the sole civilian degree program in Europe that permitted individuals to study intelligence - whether open-source intelligence, the history of intelligence, or military intelligence - alongside international politics. It was a long, long time ago, yet it equipped me with the faculties to despise the intelligence apparatus, to cherish an open society, and to recognize its necessity.

Sources of ignorance: a absence of knowledge, unknown unknowns, an ignorance that transcends prediction. Recognized within high-risk sectors, where they are designated as unk-unks - thus, we do not know that we do not know. This knowledge may well exist, yet we have no conception of it, and it lies beyond the horizon of our cognition to know that we do not know. Known unknowns - matters regarding which we are aware of our lack of knowledge; intellectual human humility, the apophatic dimension of it all. The known incompleteness of knowledge across various organizational tiers, allowing us to speculate upon certain matters, construct plans, formulate expert political assessments, and deploy numerous models, whilst remaining aware of what we do not know - structuring our ignorance upon that foundation in order to comprehend it or draw nearer to it, is that not so?

Then there is ignorance regarding existing knowledge: hm, we possess a book somewhere within a library, yet we remain unaware that this book exists and that it might yield answers. We do not know it; we do not even know what we are seeking. Knowable, known unknowns - knowledge that is not central, and so forth. Thus, we know that we know that we lack certain knowledge, yet we have no requirement for it. For instance - perhaps this is superficial? Perhaps we have no desire to hear tales concerning extraterrestrials and the pyramids. Perhaps it is entirely spurious, as is most probable. We do not require it. Perhaps I have no need to know that a specific bacterium resides upon this particular shelf.

I know that I know that I do not know this, and I have no desire to know it.

Now consider the unknown knowns - unacknowledged knowledge, tacit in nature. We may possess certain skills within our routine, we may possess knowledge that we do not actively recall within our memory at a given moment. We can forget matters, we can recall matters - and these constitute the unknown knowns. We are unaware that we know it, yet in some manner we know it, and at times we are capable of recalling it.

Cognitive biases - errors arising from human fallibility or systemic failures. Another dimension - here ethics enters the frame: ethics in science and politics, and all that dictates we refrain from pursuing certain scientific achievements or technologies because we recognize they are unethical and demand regulation. Certain individuals succumbed to hysteria regarding, shall we say, chemical trails or so-called chemtrails. In the 1960s, there existed a project involving the dissemination of silver-ionized microparticles to halt global warming. It was, however, an isolated project; yet within the popular imagination, it was extrapolated into: "Oh, they are poisoning us," and so forth, ad infinitum. Well, that is untrue. Such a project did exist. Most people are unaware of it because it was strictly classified and confidential. Now, however, it is declassified, and most educated specialists are cognizant of it.

Yet people, in their conspiracy theories, persist in believing in chemtrails, which serve to distract attention and mask other hidden matters, clouding discernment. Now I comprehend taboos within organizational cultures. One may avoid certain clean or unclean behaviors - the ancient principle: the taboo of knowledge retention, the "do not touch" taboo - it is perilous, it can engender certain political dilemmas, it can spark social madness and chaos. Another - ignorance resulting from the suppression of knowledge: denials, active denials, passive denials of knowledge. You do not admit that you are treading upon some super-secret weapon, do you? You may refrain from denial in order to preserve your political whitewashing credit, to wash your hands. And they declare: "Hey, we caught you red-handed," and that man replies: "No, I did not do it," even though he knows he did it, yet he denies it for political public relations, to preserve this or that - and that becomes a matter of audit and so forth.

You can catch someone committing the most egregious crimes, frauds, and so forth, and he responds: "No, I did not do it." And if the masses believe this man - which is the political technology of manipulating the masses, even though the man committed the act - it is utterly insane. Yet the masses shield him as a charismatic leader. For example: secrecy, trade secrets, and everything that constitutes a secret.

However, these are matters of immense complexity, and I would not venture so far as to claim that there exist hidden masterplans and grand conspiracies - you know, a conspiracy.

I participated in a conspiracy with my friend when I was fourteen years old. We said: "Hey, let us go to that place and purchase some alcohol to sell at a profit at the camp." That was a conspiracy that endured for some time. Imagine a multitude of such conspiracies transpiring every day; the larger they grow within society, within a group, the more probable it becomes that they will be exposed, seen, uncovered, and so forth. They compete with one another - they are simply social networks of power interests, finance, technology, social ideologies, and all such forces.

Conspiracy theories do exist, yet the majority of their adherents and those provoked by them are politically incompetent, disenfranchised. If they believe in a conspiracy, they ought to mobilize political support or gather evidence to demonstrate that they are correct - or, hopefully, we shall not mislead them with some baseless gibberish or the like. Privacy - thus non-disclosure agreements and everything we all require: privacy, the law. Given that everything is now under surveillance: political credit scores, CCTV, artificial intelligence, biometric monitoring of citizens. So much for privacy. Well, you must locate that tiny sphere of freedom you possess, whether here or there. Metaphysics is the domain of freedom - and then pretend that you possess privacy in a world of big data and the pervasive profiling of all things around you. You may possess privacy among friends or civil enemies, or pretend that you do.

When it comes to effective subversion, it is extraordinarily difficult in these times, as more than one decision-maker has discovered. So that is the typology of organizational ignorance, and I hope I have elucidated a great deal regarding knowledge bases: knowledge, data, factors, information. Indeed, have fun, educate yourselves, cultivate critical thinking, leadership skills. You wish to alter something - do it. At a certain point, I was erased as a problematic political liability, so perhaps others shall take up the mantle, as I have already fought my battles.

Holbein, Lützelburger: Dance of Death & Bruno Goetz's The Kingdom Beyond Space in the Translation of the Late Maestro Prokopiuk: A Fatal Night

Certain individuals prefer to keep a Bible at their bedside, and this is understandable; perhaps it affords them solace. Personally, I selected Hans Holbein's Der Totentanz to serve as a reminder of the good old Memento Mori, Invicti Genii. Within this work, we encounter diverse conditions and distinct roles - woodcuts executed by Hans Lützelburger alongside Hans Holbein, who published the volume. It impels us to contemplate the roles we enact throughout life, and the manner in which we ultimately surrender our bones and flesh to the sepulcher.

I should not wish to offer a exhaustive review of the book. Death is indeed a terrifying monarch; nevertheless, I desire to focus specifically upon the supplementary series of Putti, wherein we behold all the somber circumstances in which we might perish - what manner of death may claim us, regardless of who we are. Death now holds sway over all mortals. I trust that this particular series resides here, evoking Bruno Goetz's The Kingdom Beyond Space contained within this volume.

In The Kingdom Beyond Space, after countless trials and tribulations upon the Earth, a black magician and a soul who once lost his love finally achieve triumph over the forces of Darkness and, so to speak, the Black Brotherhood, whereupon he is transformed into a child. The Celestial Society is a society of children. The greatest magician is he who plays like a child, consumed entirely by play and sport. Thus we behold the Putti bearing shield and arrow, a warrior, and three small huntsmen - three children engaged in hunting games with lightness and virtuosity.

Consider now the triad of Putti bearing trophies - trophies of war - observe what they have secured: they have stripped other children of their armor and helms. In Heavenly discourse, the bacchic children have gloriously turned back toward childlike innocence through the gateway of death. Here stands the child of the emperor, a military train of Putti - what a divine procession! Now the triumphal march of the Putti: the child of Caesar and the children in the Little Wreath, alongside cohorts of other maidens and youths bearing magnificent trophies and works of art.

Non omnis moriar, Memento Mori, and Invicti Genii.

From book to book: a consideration of The Corpse: From Biology to Anthropology by Louis-Vincent Thomas.

I undertook the reading of this work upon the recommendation of an acquaintance, accustomed as I am to communing with death on a daily basis through the observation of ethereal corpses, spiritual remnants, doppelgängers, as well as multiform shadows and the black souls of the deceased, investigating their traditions, languages, and peculiar sorcery. How is such a thing possible? How can one reason upon death without comprehending the corpse, having encountered physical remains merely a handful of times in a lifetime?

There exist two manifestations of Thanatos, precisely as there are two manifestations of Eros: the first Thanatos belongs to the corpse, to physical death; the second Thanatos belongs to the spiritual exposure of the departed soul to death, which within a strange black mirror continues to exist, living an un-life upon the far side of the looking glass. The first type of Eros is Bios, Zoe - physical life; the second type of Eros reflects spiritual Thanatos: spiritual life unincarnated within a living organism, objectively independent of the realm of the biologically living.

Insofar as the majority of ritual burial forms sought to subdue the second type of Thanatos, the reduction of necromancy to the physical corpse revolves around the first. Yet the corpse itself, as the vessel left behind by the living, possesses its own magical properties - contingent upon the power and magical potential of the mage or witch that remained inscribed upon their remains and bones following death.

The decomposition of the body in its various manifestations yields intelligence not merely regarding burial conditions and the biodynamics of decay, but also concerning the translation of man's spiritual components, which reveal their status to a lesser degree during the putrefaction of the flesh.

The corpse is the culmination of the civilization within which it was "cultivated." We observe how the children of late capitalism powder over life while deritualizing death in a cosmetic terror of its arrival, transforming burial into a vast commercial enterprise - distancing the corpse as far as possible, in a version of "instant gratification," from living consumers burdened with obligations. What do they consume? Their own death - until its eventual, actual arrival. Death is the despot of despots and shall come for every soul, as proclaimed by the maxim from Hans Holbein's Der Totentanz.

The book addresses virtually every aspect of the "corpse" from an anthropological and sociological vantage point, as well as what may be wrought with physical remains. Yet one shall find within its pages no mention of the necromantic utilization of corpses - neither for the purposes of veneficium nor sorcery. For such particulars, I direct the reader to Schulke's Veneficium and numerous necromantic treatises, predominantly European, dealing with this matter.

Noli me tangere.

Astrotheology: Al-Kindi, De Radiis, Deep into the Path - A Commentator's Experience

Abu Yusuf Ya'qub ibn Ishaq ibn as-Sabbah ibn 'Omran ibn Isma'il ibn Muhammad ibn al-Ash'ath ibn Qays al-Kindi ibn Ma'di Karib ibn Mu'awiyah ibn Jabalah ibn 'Adi ibn Rabi'ah ibn Mu'awiyah ibn al-Harith ibn Murrah ibn Adad ibn Zayd ibn al-Humaysi' ibn Kahlan ibn Saba ibn Yashjub ibn Ya'rub - Al-Kindi, or Jacob of Kinda, born circa 800-870, flourishing in the years 820-866 of our era. I shall not read excerpts from Al-Kindi's De Radiis; rather, I wish to compose a brief discourse as I press further along the path - offering reflections upon my understanding and juxtaposing them with my personal experiences and astrotheological investigations alongside the great ninth-century Arab, one of the principal architects of the center of learning in Baghdad during that era.

When I close my eyes and gaze into our stars, I behold the Great Solar Disc entwined by Divine serpents, shining majestically and radiantly with power, stability, and celestial force. Pristine, divine entities draw near to embrace me; I perceive streams of hieroglyphs that sanctify my intellect in some primordial sacrament. When I contemplate my daimon and cultivate this vision, I perceive myself as a star akin to Hyperion, reflecting the world and all creatures present within it through a mind both paternal and maternal.

Why these specific symbols, and not others? The Divine communicates through symbols that are intelligible and sacred to you, and it shall not communicate dishonestly - for among the Romans, these symbolized integrity and truth, and all contracts and oaths were sworn beneath their rays. Communication unfolds through symbols and signs that resonate with you in harmony, never presenting absurdity if true understanding has been attained.

The stars, possessing varied positions and movements, continuously generating new configurations, derive their natures from three transcendent realities - being the tetrad of the visible Helios in our world, following the Chaldean maxim - and stand as the manifestation of the Divine within the phenomenological reality of multiplicity. They preserve their Divine nature without contradicting the physical, objective reality that modern physicists and astronomers studying matter postulate in their inquiries.

As distinct natures, they constitute a separate class of the supreme Gods and Goddesses possessing their own non-human intellects - sustaining the Egyptians, Akkadians, Orphics, and Neoplatonists - who collaborate in unity upon a transcendent plane while remaining individualized within the phenomenal universe. Their distinctness arises from differing configurations within the realm of physis, or matter, in accordance with the laws of physics. The stars possess diverse natures and diverse mutual relationships - they may be concordant, complementary, in conflict, friendly, attractive, or opposing.

As the a priori of life, the stars encompass life in a superposition of an organic evolutionary plan across inhabited and uninhabited spheres; hence, their intellect holds the potential for life, functioning in truth as beacons of existence. The influence they exert upon the world as a whole is manifold - from it we may derive all actions, cycles, and causalities at an aeonic level in potentiality, contingent upon their magnitude, distance, luminosity, and capacity to act upon our planets and inhabited zones, as well as other planetary spheres within the Solar System - including their influence upon our Sun, for our Star surrenders its impressions to countless other stars.

He who comprehends the cosmic symphony and discerns the corresponding alignments within the realizations of their reality in any given world shall master the comprehension of the past, the present, and the future. For this reason, it is exceedingly difficult to forecast anything beyond the great cycles, which are most discernible within the realm of motion and change.

Only within the supreme mystical experience can we directly receive the rays of the stars inside the cosmic cave into which we peer to comprehend the stellar nature, much like the ancient astronomer-astrologers. In this manner, we may come to know a small fragment of their nature - as though isolated from other stars - as they speak to us and ceaselessly call out to us, interpreted through our mind, intellect, and senses according to the human measure, constrained by our finite capacity for comprehension and the interaction between ourselves and the world.

Scott Gosnell's translation is sublime, capturing the essence of a mature and fully articulated cosmic philosophy. Within this philosophy, the stars possess diverse natures, each influencing the rest in a grand cosmic symphony. Their influence extends through rays reaching the Earth, in harmony with the planets, luminaries, and their spheres. Far from being naive, this philosophy is the fruit of profound contemplation - born of star-gazing by the Great Arab Polymath of Baghdad, who penned over three hundred works across diverse fields.

One of the most compelling definitions of the microcosm I have encountered is found within De Radiis. It states: "Man, therefore, in proportion to his existence, arises like a world unto himself. And so, he is a lesser world, said to have received the power to induce motion in appropriate material through his works, just as the world did - yet with prior imagination, intention, and faith within the soul of man."

Al-Kindi adheres to the Aristotelian tradition, wherein knowledge derives from the senses and the mind - internal and external stimuli shaping our perception of the world. This view remained largely unchallenged for centuries, even into modern times. Yet I wish to challenge this paradigm by proposing the existence of a Seventh Gate - an entryway for stimuli emanating from spirits, powers, forces, and souls. These stimuli arrive through a spiritual sense, subsequently processed by the mind, intuition, and physical senses. This process allows one to empirically grasp the autophaneia of the Divine, enabling it to be seen, felt, sensed, understood, interpreted, and communicated.

In my investigations into the natures of the stars, I entered a receptive state, perceiving them as great Gods and Goddesses - non-human intellects embodying living forces on a metaphysical plane. Each star left a unique impression upon me: Alkaid in Ursa Major invoked a cold, necromantic, uninhabited zone bearing Saturnian-Plutonic characteristics; whereas Alpha Lyrae (Vega) suggested a watery, Mercurial, and Martial influence, as though inhabited by a high priestly caste of some distant race, whether corporeal or spiritual. Theta Tauri in the Hyades manifested as a Mars-like zone, hot and arid - a place of death and a stark, melancholic, Saturnian despair.

The Great Master Al-Kindi confirmed my intuitions and research, dispelling many doubts and cleansing the mirror of my understanding.

"Because Why Not" - A Speech Written and Delivered Between 12:10 and 13:14, September 15, 2025 CET, Lubliniec, Silesia, PL

Tens of thousands of decisions. The wrong place, the wrong time, infuriating the hidden recesses of the world because you shone too brightly and drew too much notice amidst the mediocrity of the crowd, taking a liberating stance among slaves oblivious to their own servitude. Objectively the finest decisions we were capable of forging at any given moment, under such and such circumstances. It is a matter of endurance. How many times can one be crushed and driven to madness by "the other side" for political or religious reasons, out of sheer malice and "because why not, you little rascal," only to emerge triumphant - or at least like a beaten dog, barely staying afloat to survive another day? Invisible wars; mortals tread between them, unaware of themselves, of their own lives, and of their own conflict. One must navigate around them, around family and acquaintances, adapting to their ignorance, for a single spoken word will alienate them or dispatch you straight into the embrace of psychiatry.

How many times did anyone listen? I had a few friends who listened openly, without prejudice, and concurred: "Man, you got screwed, but what are we to do? We are more helpless than you in your own wars." Friendship was sufficient - a synthesis of human resonance. Sliding into the underworlds, do you imagine that a bigoted idiot with a mission, or mere passersby, will not seize upon your tragedy as a ostentatious display of their own pettiness, branding you a "blasphemer" who is detached from their understanding of their own plight? Even these pests possess their own lives; after inflicting damage through stupidity, having gained nothing, they retreat into the safe cocoons of their ignorance. With what is hell paved? With broken lives that never saw justice, with tens of thousands of struggles that found no solace in winning a single one.

Then simplicity steps in. All refined contexts, intellectual understandings aware of their own ruin, demanding a decision on "why and how": whether to become a destroyer of ignorant lives, or to overcome them like a beaten dog, spat upon by a society that was the first to criticize our decisions, our strength, our resolve, our war without a shred of knowledge or insight. Iamblichus once wrote in his letters: "Great natures turned toward evil are the greatest ruin to themselves and to all things; likewise, great undertakings turned toward evil spawn catastrophes." For within every greatness lies the seed of darkness and destruction, which post-factum is interpreted as "the other side" - the dead governing the living in their oblivion. Simplify evil, simplify destruction, simplify creation, simplify hatred and disgust, retaining perfidy and intelligence above all else to elevate a simple curse into an art. Simplify benevolence, simplify active compassion, simplify overcoming to elevate a simple blessing into an art.

Here I stand: once I was called a titan, my subjective life objectified within a certain harbinger of the tradition of the Gods I profess. To society, I am merely a member of the precariat - quoting Seneca: "No one knows whether he was truly born." Hold the reins and gallop through this misery until you reach the streets, sweeping away the dust of your earthly books, casting upon passersby a glance laden with a grave understanding that they never perceive, let alone comprehend. Their shallow nature permits no gaze beyond the tip of their own nose; they never claimed to possess profound lives that demand an intuitive understanding of another's destiny. What else remains? The invincible life, mastered despite everything, as we gaze with longing to depart from this bloody battle of the corporeal shell into the next world - the afterlife - as our memories of this life fade into oblivion.

Who shall be there to pen our vain biographies? Archivists? It fails to arouse even our own interest, least of all the interest of others - and ultimately, to what end? Another drop of blood spilled into the Grail when life was denied to us, as we bear our crowns deliberate and contemplative. An Emperor exposed to the crowd, reduced to the status of the crowd, shall be torn to shreds by hands screaming: "You are just like us, you are no better than us, you are worse than us, why you?" - whereas a vile idiot exposed to the crowd, invested with the status of an emperor, shall be venerated like a god. It is a matter of perception, of vantage point, and of the responsibility of the beholder.

The consolation lies in this: certain embodied values remain recognized by the gods; certain wars fought invisibly are known to the Goddesses. Therefore, let us maintain silence regarding the greater part of our tales, and from the wealth of experience, share only that which is essential with a silent audience that has long since departed the theater - while we remain standing upon the stage, conversing with shadows, our skull resting gently in our palm.

Azrael's Charade - What Is Infinity?

What is infinity? Azrael, the Saturnian messenger of death, possessed a drunkard and posed this question to me once in Vilnius. He did not believe in some strange God, nor did I. If they ask you: "Does God exist?" Answer: no - that is the honest answer. If they ask you: "Does the Divine exist?" Answer: yes, but never in the manner you imagine.

I once offered him a perfect response - much later - yet subsequently forgot what answer I had given. That answer of mine belongs to him now, a gift born of my oblivion.

Yet for a mortal, infinity is many things. It is idealized impermanence; it is that which has been made eternal - his vision and his yearning. It is that which he loved to love, which has now departed and pervaded the dream of memory. It is everything that endures beyond his lifespan, as he realizes upon his deathbed. It is the time beyond beginning and end, which he cannot reach.

It is rapture encased within a flash of understanding. It is the universe contracted into a magnificent ritual that may endure for a single second. It is the intelligible, continuous Hecatic soul of the world, whose song persists. It is the depth of the abyss that knows neither time, nor events, nor form. It is the perfect void consumed by its own presence in affirmation. It is the shift of perception from the concrete to the colossal. It is the candid radiance of pure forces intruding into the life of a mortal, whereby he participates in great cosmic, ontological forces surpassing all he can know or comprehend. It is both continuous change and perfect stillness - immobility in the very whirlpool of transformation.

Thanaturgy, Thanatarchy

I was returning home after visiting an acquaintance. Ordinarily, I transfer twice along the route. I listen to drunkards and quiet souls alike, contemplating the contents of their minds and feeling; I enact the masquerade of anonymity - the hidden lives of some are shallow and young, while over others, shadows hover sepulchrally, though such individuals are exceedingly rare. Beer bottles slide across the floor of the bus, leaving a splashed trail behind. Usually, I listen to music, attempt to meditate, or engage in resonant rituals, communicating with allied forces. Young women seek love, young men seek sex - or vice versa. I have much to ponder. I feel like an old master, though I am barely thirty-one years of age. For a moment, I freeze in accordance with my nature - paternal, Saturnian - stepping beyond time, beyond the rivers of Rhea. Perhaps it is self-consciously self-imposed, a condescending rigidity, yet devoid of the slightest rigor - at times natural, invoked when necessary. A form of compensation, so as to feel nothing, devoid of Venusian functions; at times, I despise women.

This is nothing new. Heracles experienced the like: the Heraclean Mysteries admitted only old men to initiation - in Plutarch's Moralia, I read that a certain youth was granted this honor, but Aphrodite entangled his senses for a woman, and in shame he was forced to withdraw from the honors of the Heracleia. The threads of causality are resolved by the effects of our actions. I take the effects of my deeds upon the path, striving to weave them together as a solitary mortal - a god joining the retinue of the Elder Deities, joining the wild, beautiful hunt in Apuleian metamorphoses. Ishtar favored us; in a photograph, from perhaps our first meeting, her physiognomy stamped itself. She resembled her son and lover - a female incarnation of Tammuz. In Akkad, she was known as a huntress of men, inducing misogyny within them; I feel at least partially vindicated.

Another part of me desires to polish Archontic works in balance, not in servitude - though who knows what fates are written for ordinary men, what for magicians, and what for astrologers; and who knows what awaits those who liberate themselves from their sway? Yet that is not the subject of this story now. Ethos demands compassion - the force of balance and justice within a universe where a fall necessitates a calling. These are forces that reveal themselves solely through compassion: active deed, Bodhisattvically engaged in its act. Compassion in place of calculation, cruelty, and apodictic rage - where nature has been wounded, they overcome.

I arrived at Warsaw Central Station and purchased coffee from a vending machine. I rolled a cigarette, then stood twenty meters away from the designated smoking area. At the latter, people usually beg for cigarettes and money. I have stood there often, engaging in brief, fragmentary conversations with former convicts, thieves, the homeless, travelers, and at times adolescent prostitutes. Suddenly, amidst all these people consumed by their subjective cocoons of existence, my attention was arrested by a homeless man sitting on a bench near the bus stop - no one else noticed him. I asked in my mind, through the tumult of other voices: "Should I call an ambulance, should I intervene?" - "Once, I did so without second thought," I added to myself. "Now watch," I heard a dark, powerful voice say. There was only myself and this homeless man; occasionally people passed by, severing my line of sight and concentration. People sometimes laughed, sometimes stared at me; they were as invisible to me as that homeless man, yet I recorded in my head every movement, every thought, the minutest detail.

I felt a potent, black wind envelop me in heavy, dark wings. I thought: Azrael, old friend. We concentrated together; he guided my gaze toward the "Złote Tarasy" shopping center - its glass pane illuminated by green neon light. I thought alongside him: "This cannot be this man's fate; it is unjust." People began to gather slowly around the homeless man, checking whether he was alive; some departed swiftly, terrified that it was indeed so. The N72 night bus arrived; passing beside the man and the crowd, I stepped past him. A swift gesture over his face, a closing of the eyes - two obols for Charon. Passages. I sat down in the night bus. I felt the soul of this man: twisted by filth, repulsive with poverty. I commended him to the lunar souls - an invocation, a prayer, an appeal to the lunar messengers: "Guide him through." I interrogated his soul. Again, the heavy, dark voice within my head: "If you do not want your life, he shall dwell in your body." I pondered what manner of life he had lived before, long before. After some time, his soul evaporated. The bus pulled away. I gazed at the corpse of the homeless man - his bloodied leg wrapped in rags and bandages, festering. It appeared to me that his leg moved. Was he perhaps alive after all? Had his soul reanimated the flesh? I did not feel deceived. I had executed what was my task. The dark-winged friend of Thanatos - I kissed him in my imagination; a simple gesture.

Tango of Memory

Godot, in his late ninety-second year of life, sat in a wheelchair within a nursing home. Nurses occasionally strolled past, exchanging a few words in a rigid manner. His finger twitched - a nervous tic. "Why did it move?" he asked softly, an unvocalized thought that vanished before reaching his consciousness.

Somewhere above his head, a wild storm of memory erupted. Scenes moved backward, yet never captured his attention for even a moment. One blurred recollection paused briefly.

A scene, a flash - it was sixty-eight years ago. She was running after him, laughing and shouting: "Stop, you idiot, I love you!" He embraced her, rejoicing - solace for his weary, worn mind, which was destined to grow heavy sixty-eight years later. Another scene: unspoken matters, suspense when they parted. His finger twitched lightly again. A nervous tic. He smiled faintly, as much as his trained courtesy permitted. Of courtesy, only silent habits remained - the mimicry of muscles. A sort of remedy to avoid feeling pain, overcoming suffering through rigidity, politeness, and a forced smile. He felt little now, staring at a spot upon the wall that continuously slipped from his view. Again, the scenes were frozen; he felt as though he possessed no body, only a useless corpse to which his fading mind remained chained. If the void were well-defined, yet passive, mortified - it would be precisely this. In the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a human shadow. He gazed at it for a moment. The shadow whispered: "This, that, this, that, tick-tock-tick."

He did not reply; he smiled vacantly, forgot the shadow, forgot the answer, muttering something that once might have sounded like: "I never feared anything, I was never here, moments like these are eternity." The only sound the passing nurse overheard was a drawn-out "Mmm..."; a subsequent convulsive nod reinforced her conviction that dementia had long since claimed its toll. For a brief moment he envisioned one final thing: future events upon the Earth, catastrophes. A Saturnian age, an age of seers and diviners; when death draws near, everything is seen with absolute clarity, yet it is already superfluous. These revelations, however, failed to capture his attention; he watched, as if hypnotized, without reaction, looking into vacant scenes. Of greater import was his desire to use the lavatory. He could not call the nurse, so he soiled his diaper. She would come later. He could not know this, nor be aware of it, but she cleaned up after him, changing his diapers time and again.

Another whisper attempted to stir his comprehension: "Once you roared like a lion, a king with the tongue of a proud viper; now you fade out. You could have died young." He did not comprehend it; he simply blinked wearily - another nervous tic. "The last thing you utter after death shall be a cold, exhausted breath," the shadow tried to make an impression upon him. "You are useless, you always were; you do not even understand what I say to you now," declared the shadow.

Godot, from behind his tarnished, cataract-clouded eyes, answered in a voice that was not his own: "Those like you stripped everything from me; I never needed it. Thank you for liberating me from those things that were devoid of value. The Gods have constructed a stellar home for me. I am free now. With her." The shadow swelled into a tremendous fury, darkening the entire room of the nursing home, whispering: "Yet you were meant to be with us, a vampiric spectre - you cannot, you simply cannot!" But it was whispering to a dead body, to the remnants of Godot.

Lessons of Unsatiated Intellects: Science, Art? The Comprehensive Application of Advanced Heuristics in Magic

Eureka! What is a heuristic? In common parlance, it is a practical rule - a "rule of thumb." In other words, it is a method for arriving at an optimal solution that is not perfect. It is not definitive, yet it approximates many things. When we engage with the magical arts, we employ a hypothetical-inductive-deductive method. This means that we posit a hypothesis: something may take effect if I visualize it or subtly materialize it within thought. Take, for instance, a small pyramid. We design it.

We pretend to see it - whether we truly do so is irrelevant; I employ the imagination to impart energy unto it: the psionic energy of the mind. If I see or sense the form of this small pyramid through magnetoreceptivity, it signifies that an effect emerges. My hypothesis yields - one might say - a far-reaching induction: if I execute that which I have just performed, I shall achieve a certain result. It is an unverifiable, unfalsifiable hypothesis. In other words, it remains purely subjective until I observe the effects in objective reality, or subjectively experience the experiment.

One might designate this a self-propelling belief system or a self-fulfilling prophecy. Yet with sufficient experience, you learn to discern that which is real from that which is not. Amassing numerous such inductive phenomena and formulating hypotheses, upon obtaining a robust, overarching view of the dynamic laws and operational principles of magic, you may deduce from this image specific details that may or may not function.

I wish to emphasize that the described test is restricted to crude, vulgar operations, not to High Magic, which is the subtle art of learned magic. One cannot test the exact effects nor employ the scientific method to replicate them, for no such possibility exists. If I wish to utilize a simple test, I might state that I am magnetoreceptive, having placed my hands upon an electro-conductive plate - as I once did at the Copernicus Institute in Warsaw - to ascertain whether I could direct this energy from my left hand to my right. A measuring system was present that registered microvolts: when I shifted the energy to the right, it indicated several microvolts to the right; when to the left - several microvolts to the left. That was verified. I demonstrated this once to my former girlfriend.

Crude (vulgar) magic and High Magic differ vastly. You may say that I construct castles upon slender clouds, imagined castles - now I may fantasize. However, when it comes to the higher art of magic, it is essential to construct a solid system of theoria - praxis - interpretation of the act. At times, effects manifest after months, after years; at times you never experience them, and yet in some manner they operate - synchronicity, acausal relationships, and the like. Hence, I resolved to approach magic in a modular fashion. You fashion a tool, which serves as a module. Visualization is a module. Invocation is a module. Evocation is a module. A performative act or ritual dance is a module. And there exists a distinction between a mere act and a magical act. An act is something you perform - an ordinary action. A magical act is a shift of the hieroglyph of perception that endows it with magical properties. You sanctify it, akin to sacraments - in ancient Greek, it pertained to something set upon the intellect. The mysteries into which you are initiated are sacraments - seals placed upon your mind, soul, spirit, and heart. Thus, the modular approach to magic.

Once you build a library of these modules, you can apply object-oriented programming during magical operations. This is not rigorous, for even learned magic as a science remains an art and virtuosity - it cannot be entirely reduced to science, as it relies upon complex adaptive systems, chaotic systems, and so forth. And yet it functions, provided you learn to delimit your operations through tools, settings, the genius loci of a place, various entities or dimensions - whatever environment you choose for the work. For example, Hermetic alchemy, goetia, or theurgy are forms of delimiting magical technology.

I once encountered a very fine academic paper regarding heuristics in the I Ching (Book of Changes), and within one of the sacred texts associated with that work - written in the seventeenth century by a Chinese scholar whose name eludes me - there was a statement that the act of divination is an attempt to isolate a pattern from among many patterns: a certain detail that may indicate, through wisdom and intuition, optimal solutions describing the current state of affairs. That is how I wished to frame it. Inspired by this, I began to study heuristics - hence "Eureka!" - and I would like to explain how heuristics may be applied to magic.

We can utilize certain concepts from metaheuristics: how to design a system that defines heuristics or configurations for optimal solutions. Here we have the concept of control flow - the sequence in which various components of the metaheuristic are employed - and the optimal levels of diverse metaheuristic parameters. The act is a heuristic model. That which stands behind the act is the metaheuristic - the grammar, structure, or operator underlying the act. By manipulating the levels of metaheuristics, you begin to think abstractly, which enables the operation of multiple tools within the modular system of magic I mentioned earlier.

The control flow provides you with components and parameters in a specific sequence and form. How you execute magical operations within the mind - hierarchically, sequentially, linearly, continuously, intermittently, and so forth - and how it flows through the process, how it is structured, is all paramount. In magic, the hybrid model of metaheuristics is adaptive: it contains a mechanism for modifying its configuration during execution. Magic is an act, a process - hence, during execution, you also configure it: you decide upon parameterization and control flow. It is an act continuously occurring within ceremony, ritual, or life.

Another matter: a multilevel metaheuristic algorithm is one whose configuration is altered by another metaheuristic. For instance, if you operate upon the metaheuristic levels of magical tools, another coordinate system - another metaheuristic, such as a demon from another dimension - may enter with its own heuristics. This induces a form of perturbation within your operation. That is precisely what renders magic fascinating. As I mentioned, it is an art; it is a hybrid metaheuristic combining several frameworks I have already named. Hence, parameterization.

If you alter one condition, one parameter within your metaheuristic and heuristic model of magical action, there is no possibility that it will not affect the remaining elements. It is an exceedingly complex system, and depending upon how skillfully you can maneuver parameters, you obtain effects that function and prove effective - or fail to function. In crude, vulgar low magic, you may obtain visible effects: if I visualize a servitor and charge it with khaibit (umbric) energy, I may behold a flying bat - it is an empty servitor, given no instructions to act within the ethers, a "dummy" - and now I erase it.

Another crucial parameter is the tuning of parameters adaptively "on the fly" - that is, online. This is a captivating concept from metaheuristics, such as GRASP - Greedy Randomized Adaptive Search Procedure. In other words, if you set something in motion (such as a servitor), with every iteration of the operation, it selects the finest element from a set of potential solutions, provided it is programmed to gather such solutions. It is somewhat like a programmed virus that spreads and attempts to optimize itself within the ethers as well, perhaps optimized by external forces from the other side.

Like all magic, if you commence from a flawed premise, employ the wrong tool, or make an erroneous decision at an early stage of the constructive procedure, it may lead to poor solutions at the conclusion, or - at best - to empty results; your magic will fail to work. Another consideration: hyper-heuristics - a heuristic selecting heuristics. Which metaheuristic model will our metaheuristic choose in order to operate? This is profoundly abstract, and I fear our mind is incapable of processing it at such a level. Though I may be mistaken - during deep meditation, work with the void, śamatha, such metaheuristics occur spontaneously, as though naturally, compatible and complementary to the work itself. Things transpire because meta-hyper-heuristics are at play.

Have I attempted to explain too much? I think not. I wished to introduce those engaged in magical matters to a more complex scenario, attempting to grasp how magic operates. I realize that for some, it is intuitive, and their magic works simply because it works. I resolved to comprehend how magic functions, arriving at conclusions that allowed me to continue my inquiries and define my method of operation with precision and focus. It is far better to have an effect operating with laser-like concentration than a dispersed capability that is highly ineffective and turbulent.

The Law of Masquerade: The Chameleon's Politics. Ethos, Experience, and Adaptability

I have traveled to thirty-nine countries across four different continents. I have encountered individuals of diverse status, origin, wealth, and power. I have had the occasion to meet with the homeless, with beggars, with underage prostitutes who plagued me at the Warsaw night station, with corpses in the Mongolian black-market district of Ulaanbaatar; and I have witnessed many a death in physical form - recalling the first murder I beheld at the age of nine: a mafia settlement and a shot carcass upon Stara Praga. This is not a tale of how to survive this life; it concerns the chameleonic capacity for adaptation. What is a chameleon? It adapts to circumstances, alters its hues, yet preserves itself. It retains its nature, its spine being an ethos. Nevertheless, it knows how to draw loose threads from its narrative, its dialogues, its mind, information, data, and knowledge in order to survey its surroundings and tailor them to a given person.

It resembles, in a sense, corporate know-how. You extract merely that fragment of information that is essential for a specific person at a specific moment and under specific circumstances. In other words, I maintain a distinct relationship with my family, with my friends, with my magical companions, with my more suited - shall we say - masters and mistresses, and so forth. I possess a distinct capacity for conversing with the homeless; I possess a distinct capacity for conversing with the wealthy, the influential, and so on - having encountered a multitude of situations in which to present myself in the worst and finest light: the monster, and the man of complete refinement.

Thus, there exists such a thing as savoir-vivre, the refinement you possess, the charisma you hold - adapting when you converse with a skinhead or a chav. You do not speak sweetly like Odysseus from a rhetorical standpoint; you must be hard - true - you must be vulgar, and you must dominate or at least prove tough enough to offer a few words so that such a person takes you for one of their own. If you converse with a professor, you may unleash your capacity for erudite speech and enchant that person. When you converse with the woman of your life, or with a woman you seek to attract, you do not babble; you reveal your true side, your sincere side, striving to let "words follow knowledge."

Thus, you are either an honest and charming presence for that person, respecting them, or you are simply not interested in them at all. Hence, you always adopt the perspective of the other. You examine what they know, what occupies them, what their personality is, what character they possess. And by dwelling among diverse people of varied status and wealth - whether from the lower strata of society or the highest circles - you learn life; you come to know humanity. And why is this chameleonic capacity for adaptation so vital in the magical trade? Because if you possess rich experience surpassing the anomalies of the ordinary mortal, you do not speak of it left and right, lest you be relegated to psychiatry or deemed a delusional person, a lunatic.

And what of madness? When you are truly mad, you are unaware of it. At times you may simulate madness to protect yourself; at times you are mad, yet must assume that rigorous mask, a poker face, so that this madness does not erupt into the open; and at times, when you are entirely sound of mind, you must assume the mask of a madman to shield yourself from various situations. Thus, it is not merely a matter of the gift of gab, but of gestures, posture, and all else.

Why is it essential not to be dishonest, deceitful, or false? Am I to be impressionable or opportunistic like some manner of speculative scum? No: the core must ever remain the spine of a code with a defined ethos. That is your ethos. Everything revolves around it while you adopt this chameleonic policy. Thus, before fools, do not parade your wisdom, for they will grow envious and likely seek your ruin. You must play the fool; you must feign that folly. Though you know that you possess knowledge and command certain capabilities, wisdom, and insight into the person with whom you seek to exchange favors, you do not flatter them; rather, you strive to look from their vantage point and discern what wisdom, what honest counsel you might offer them.

It is a reality that only the hardest, the strongest, the most cunning, and the most honest survive all adversity. Therefore, among thieves, you cannot be an honest man: you must think like a thief and be as cunning as a fox to outwit them and avoid being robbed or burglarized. Very well. As for a murderer - I once met a murderer, a hitman from Belarus who happened to be a skinhead: you do not act pugnacious, for you will be murdered, nor do you act lenient or submissive, for that likewise renders you an object of derision to that particular individual, and as a result of displayed weakness, you may be beaten, if not slain. You must maintain a certain resilience - a resilience and the skill to speak in the manner most accessible and agreeable to that vulgar beast.

Likewise, when I speak candidly here in these brief discourses, I sometimes ask myself: who am I, who am I? Well, I strive to be as sincere as possible, presenting the most fitting, adequate nature I can offer from among the twenty natures I possess. This is no multiple personality disorder. At times I am a medium, and entities, souls, demons, and the like incarnate within my body, within my mind, to convey certain information, and then my nature transforms. That is my nature. That is the frame I currently employ. And these frames may be variable, and so forth. Thus, "Gnothi Seauton" pertains to knowing your deepest nature, your deepest purpose. What are you truly? What aligns with you? What do you favor within yourself? What is most sincere in your daemon, with your Socratic Genius or Diotymic Juno in the case of women in the ancient parable? And everything that contradicts your nature, everything that inflicts suffering or causes this contrast, must be cast aside. It shapes you, yet it ought to be rejected. It aids you in knowing who you truly are - what your inner being is, of what you are truly made.

In magic, there exists a law of attraction stating that you attract that which you are. At times, you attract that which you are not through the law of opposition: enantiodromia. Too much light invites darkness, and so forth; thus, remain conscious of this. And what is the key to adapting this chameleonic capacity? It is simply the awareness that people dwell upon being recognized by others rather than looking beyond the tip of their own nose, for that is a petty thing. You think on a grand scale, deducing into particular matters following proper situational judgment.

This means that you encompass every possible person and strive to observe them, to know them, to comprehend them. And you do this over many years, many, many years - for decades. And then you arrive at a point where you can play this game, reserving the finest parts for your truly close ones and for yourself. Why? Because it aids your survival. It helps you endure. What is more, it assists you in winning others to your side.

The Twilight of Heroic Human Dignity

We dwell in a world wherein even the greatest and most noble minds are lost in translation. How are we to move the hearts, souls, and minds of men - to elevate them toward that which is noble and magnificent - when so many remain imprisoned in a barren land of ashes, confined to the narrow bounds of what they know, feeling no thirst for liberation through pure ideas, accustomed to the lowlands and mistaking their own blindness for the totality of reality?

Even when we are heard, seen, and felt, we are seldom understood. Our deeds, motives, and actions are translated exclusively within the narrow boundaries of what the modern mind is capable of conceiving - nothing beyond its habits, knowledge, experience, or aspirations. This is entirely natural. A fool will ever mistake a master for an idiot. And a fool ought not to be condemned, but taught with patience - like water carving stone - only after one has first discerned his vantage point.

And yet, why squander time upon legions of fools who desire to remain as they are? Herein is born the heroic Socratic tragedy: the duty to speak, to transmit, to interpret, to explain. But today, men no longer deny the truth - they simply do not comprehend it. They are incapable of perceiving their own ignorance, let alone liberating themselves from its grasp. Thus an antagonism arises: the man of goodwill is perceived as an enemy, for he disrupts the play of fools. The fool hates him, and the masters of fools hate him all the more, fearing lest their slaves revolt and unmask them as mediocrities. Consequently, the noble spirit becomes hated everywhere.

Why then labor at all? Why not seek refuge among the gods and goddesses who recognize and uplift us? Because we must. Because there is sorrow and lamentation in the rhapsody of Ossian, there is yearning and grief in the Orphic hymns, there is power in the words of Nolano: those who love this world too intensely offer themselves as sacrifices upon the altars of history, of the gods, and of the earth - and the world curses them most bitterly of all.

With the passage of time, they descend toward lesser fates - once burned at the stake, today annihilated by the silent mockery of envy. We no longer rend the garments of our hearts like the sages of Egypt; instead, we grow heavy, venomous, embittered. And yet never, even in the face of the direst calamities, do we renounce our longing for the divine stars, wherein we have immortalized our loves, our visions, our names, and our lives.

Bearing aloft the Olympian torches of Hecate, with resignation upon our brows, we burn with the desire for purification - not out of hatred for the world, but from the impossible alchemical culmination of greatness. Meanwhile, the world marches on, indifferent to our endeavors to restore that which was lost long ago. And we curse our knowledge and our perception, finding solace solely in the rupture between total affirmation and absolute despair.

Like tightrope walkers, we leave behind everything we love, for love itself demands that we do not fall. We must reach the summit of the mountain.

Political Magic: From the Shadows of Cognoscendi to the Charge of the Vanguard Exposed to Blows: On Deed, Motive, Will, and Vision

Between myself and the Gods: I have been struck too many times by political-religious adversaries in this hidden war to deny my capacity to disarm - or at least to harm the Nouvelle Droite through speech, rituals, and actions beyond the public political sphere, without, however, entering direct politics. I held my own political, social, ideological, and religious vision - one that was responsible and libertarian. Opposing me were the populist-right religious, nationalistic visages employed across the ethers, who turned me into a nervous punching bag for years.

It was an individual resistance, but also the ritual implementation of my own vision consistently over many years. Narratives by which I had lived for years only now began to dawn upon the public consciousness, while the heroes of yesterday are easily forgotten in the mire and their own failures brought about by their opposition. Once, while walking at night through the Saxon Garden in Warsaw, I asked my Muses which fate would fall to my lot; I was led before the statue of "Posthumous Glory." Thus, I no longer trouble myself with mortal affairs; I shall depart into oblivion, and so long as the work is accomplished, I am content. Despite many appropriating our achievements while turning us into the very inverse of our aspirations, the world is teeming with whores and thieves who all too readily claim the labor of others, shining with borrowed radiance, destroying the authors, sweeping them under the rug lest their own verminous nature be exposed. As a result, whores are venerated, while those engaged in psionic, political warfare over minds, hearts, and souls are cast onto the pavement with a spit.

Walking with a vision - what is a deed, a motive, an instinct, a refined, subtle desire? That is the starting point.

What is the vehicle for the journey of these desires, this will, and so forth? It is the Will. Whither does it lead? To teleology, the pursuit of a vision. Every person, and especially in Magic, requires a vision, requires a goal. If you commence any undertaking - be it engineering, construction, science, the acquisition of a skill - you require a goal, you require a vision. You may hold several goals, but to move effectively toward something, you must behold it.

The same holds true for magic - whether political Magic, or shifting Magic from the rear to the front, from the underground to the fore, to the surface - aligning your soul, heart, and mind toward specific goals, altering yourself in the direction of certain ends.

You must know what you are striving to attain. At times it emerges during the process, yet you must participate in that process. To follow a vision, you must acquire the methods, the tools, and so forth.

For instance, if you are a political magician seeking to influence hearts, souls, and minds, you must possess adequate discernment and political insight - whether the science of politics, social intuition, or the capacity to comprehend societies and detect patterns.

I would add that there is no mortal capable of properly assessing this situation, of predicting certain events - whether a fox with many models or a hedgehog with a single grand narrative and model of reality. Therefore, we require a team of negotiators.

A political magician, for example, is merely a negotiator. He broadcasts ideas into the ethers that may be seized upon by more competent forces, which may implement them or not, conveying inspiration through the minds, hearts, and souls of men.

Herein lies a fundamental distinction between a despot who seeks to impose his own vision upon others - a tyrant - and a leader who desires to inspire people rhetorically, demonstrating that he fights for a just cause so that together they may bring that vision into reality.

The paramount element here is direction - his or hers - along with your spine, your set of rules, your code, your ethos. The question remains: how to render invisible forces visible, how to inspire them to convey certain things through the social fabric, and how to prevent evil forces from exploiting this and destroying society for their own ends.

It is a matter of trust, honesty, and resourcefulness. Honesty in generating ideas that, during ceremonies and rituals, are transmitted toward the spiritual realms and subsequently disseminated across the globe.

A friend of an acquaintance of mine, a maestra, beheld a vision of a network of ideas - a noosphere surrounding the Earth, containing the minds, hearts, and souls of people worldwide. Such is the perception of the gods and goddesses: they possess omniscience, an instantaneous insight into all these endeavors.

One might inquire: if they hold access to all these ideas, why do they not intervene to render everything better? Why do they not mend things? Because the laws of men are different; the laws of gods and goddesses are different, and the Earth is a highly communicative swamp - replete with informational noise.

Consider the mathematical theory of communication by Shannon and Weaver: we possess no perfect transmission from A to B. There exist numerous oscillations, numerous transmission points from alpha to omega that differ vastly in opinions, preferences, and modes of operation.

Until they reach point B - the person rhetorically influenced or inspired - much practice, patience, and effective labor are required.

There exist two distinctions between "raw" political magic and effective, inspiring magic operating upon the vastest scale of humanity's egregore.

An egregore signifies a collective consciousness - for instance, collective gratitude. If in mid-2015 I attempted to psionically attack the small demon that had taken possession of Trump - his innate controller directing body and mind - I was attacked by three shape-shifting shadows, and my body was tossed about like a wild whore in a Bacchic frenzy. From 2014 to 2022, I calculated statistically roughly 150,000 blows from the "other side"; I could have been a professional boxer with such resilience, yet it sufficed that I earned the moniker "Jagdpanzer" or "Cyborg" in 2016. Now I have my otium; I am exhausted; I hold no chance of political, social, or religious influence. It flatters me that I was worn down for eighteen years ever since I heard in 2007: "No imperial power for you, disobedient pig!" For eighteen years, they had to ensure I would no longer pose a threat to the status quo; for eighteen years, I fought.

I possessed one piece of information: my attack was effective. Second: it was halted. Third: punishment befell me. That was raw, direct political action. Effective? One must repeat, concentrate all power and psionics, and hammer away, labor, and reform until results are achieved!

How does one assess the efficacy of greater ideas that you attempt to disseminate within society? If certain segments of genuine thought begin to appear in various parts of society, even niche ones, it signifies that either a causal relationship exists between you as a general of ideas and those ideas, or they arose independently.

One might also assume that people independently arrived at the same ideas and are effectively realizing them. How to distinguish between the two? The central question of magic remains: to act despite everything, to render homage to the starry heavens, and to catalyze one's will - being a catalyst of their will - in such a manner that all remains balanced.

This does not mean the outcome will be certain, for the world is exceedingly complex - it is a complex adaptive system intertwined with chaotic systems. Many things may go awry, many well, but generally, it is chaos.

Hermeticizing this somewhat, you move in an organized fashion. You are neither a defeatist nor an overzealous optimist, neither a embittered pessimist nor an exaggerated enthusiast. You navigate within realpolitik, assessing, comprehending, and discerning the situation.

We may at times be inclined toward pessimistic or enthusiastic ideas, yet we strive to maintain our position and press forward - with the gods, with men who are for the most part oblivious to it all. But those who are engaged are agents of the current stream, for this is a battle for the Earth, whether we will it or not.

Everything that transpires now shall be a projection upon future generations. Everything occurring in the present defines and orchestrates the future of this world. To what end all this? So as not to remain powerless. The power of the powerless need not be political, though political it ought to be! The power of the powerless concerns total war on all fronts: intellectual, magical, psionic, scribal, narrative, performative. And that is a war from which I have signed off, having fulfilled my duties.

Nocturnal Poetry and Narratives - On Ritualism

What are the principal elements of a ritual? Is it the intellect? Scientific matters? Reading? No - that is knowledge, episteme, the operational memory of the craft, which may be applied within a ritual or degraded into scientific affairs. Is it the feeling experienced between lovers in their youth? That is a form of syntony, yet it is still not ritual. Do I speak in vain, as I do now? Is it speaking to some spirit that commands you - is it not so? Is it the perception of the hieroglyph Sia - that you shift your mode of vision into a magical world? Perhaps that is the foundational perception; everything is the magical potential you possess. Is it not true that some attain the effect of their magic, while others do not? Even if they strive earnestly, they possess no magical potential; their words are squandered, carried off into the desert, as was written in the I Ching: the word of the wise man is revered within a radius of ten thousand miles; the word of the fool, or the furious, foolish word, is severed at the tip of the tongue before it reaches anyone else.

Remember that the frame of a ritual is, above all, the primary imagination of a child. If you are capable of imagining the impossible, that is the first step. Maturity demands Hermetic definitions, so you take vast quantities of knowledge from that broad imagination and apply them to the works of effects; you apply it to coordinates, to orders of reference regarding things you know and things you do not know. If I resolve now to create a vortex of energy and launch several modules written in the Akkadian tongue, a blessing inscribed in cuneiform upon gold will be visible on the other side. Will they be able to read it? Perhaps the gods can; perhaps the ancient spirits of the Akkadians. Is it proper to Akkadian, Sumerian, Assyrian, Neo-Babylonian? Not at all, yet somehow I can create an entire wall covered in these symbols and intuitively comprehend its meaning, without knowing that this is the path to sanctity. That which is profane is touched by a mortal, understood by a mortal; the sacrum is never grasped, never understood - it remains suspended between knowledge and complete nescientia.

Now, if I behold a winged maiden there in gold and silver, I may assume she could be a local angel, or an intelligence sent unto me to conjure this texture that shall serve as your inspiration. Shall I choose to extend my spiritual arm to touch her cheek with great, profound tenderness, or do I prefer to hurl this demon through the window in its black, khaibitic form? Now, all of this is vulgarity. Today there are so many traditions and methods of magic. What lies beyond the horizon? It is Jupiter - Jupiter Optimus Maximus, the grand nature of the planetary spheres, divided further into octaves: Zeus Meilichios, Thracian Zeus Sabazios. As I attempt to comprehend the geometry of theology, the arithmetic of this sphere, I know that millions of spirits (intelligences) inhabit it in various hierarchies, a-hierarchical, belonging to many worlds. Jupiter is a vast gas giant, a physical objective taught to us by astronomy; yet from the vantage point of divinity, it is a world filled with glory, royal attributes, queenly attributes - and then arrived the intelligence of Jupiter. Were this lord, this spirit of Jupiter, to incarnate within me - were I to perform an invocation - would my character grow nobler and more royal? Possessing more refined traits, lofty, subtle, ready to command with charisma? Perhaps!

There is a saying: once, demons were summoned; now, they arrive of their own accord, and the era of humanity's blindness forces a situation wherein the divine, continuous act operates regardless of whether men turn their faces from it or engage in intentional laws, priesthood, ceremonies, and the like. What is the limit of magic? It is like asking: what is the limit of nature in all its living forms? What is the limit of the "other side"? It refers to the "other side" - it is the boundary of the nature of metaphysics that delimits it. The imagination may be infinite, yet there are things that function and those that do not. And by examining this and constructing Hermeticism, incorporating this metaphysics of arete, the metaphysics of the rose down to the human level - by incorporating this, you become a magician. Likewise in the individuality that you direct toward the deities, you direct yourself toward nature - oh, hail, genius loci of this place. I currently reside in Lublin, a city in eastern Poland. On the other side dwell many inhabitants whom I respect deeply, for I am a guest here; and yet the magical function - protective, apotropaic, active, commanding, possessing mediation, compelling obedience, mystically receptive, allowing passage through oneself, transforming, transmuting, straightening, spiritualizing - it is difficult to capture in words without practice. Every space of the magician is his temple, her temple, no matter where you are - in the fields, upon the steppes, in deserts, or in this small studio apartment.

Ponder what you shall conjure within your sacred space. Your sacred temple is one thing; being a sacred temple is quite another. The temple of those spirits, the temple of your soul, of your own Daimon, of your own heart - and yet, beware. As soon as you realize that you are a Daimon and mend this within the temple yourself, you may lose yourself in inflation, declaring: "I am a god, there are no other Gods" - which is pure nonsense. There exist deities of vast magnitude, of profound power, and as long as you recognize this unity with them, you do not sever yourself, and you lead a truly heroic life, entering the divine stream. Whether you fall degenerated into rot, you remain within the divine stream. Gods and goddesses surround you, for you are one of them as a lesser deity, and in that form you practice magic - to what end? To coordinate and catalyze, to deify oneself anew, to spiritualize oneself, to return home upon departing from the post of the dream "live the only reality," as Austin Osman Spare once wrote. Which signifies that it is a more stable frame of reference within the body, within the Dionysian tomb, than any you might obtain. When you die, it is like a dream more dense, fluid, yet you drift away from your mortal simian mind, from your mortal emotions, feelings, and instincts; and how you train and discipline yourself, in what manner you refine yourself, shall yield the result of what you become in the afterlife. You shall follow that which you love; if you love attachments, you shall pass into attachments.

There is a tale of an elderly lady who loved gardening, who saw nothing beyond flowers and gardens - she cherished it. Upon her death, she became a nature spirit, a Sylph who tended to gardens in the afterlife, for that was what she loved most. You follow that which you hate, you follow that which you love, you follow that which you are. Touched by and detaching from all of this, you are a traveler unto many worlds. As soon as you realize that you belong to no single reality, you travel to many of them. As soon as it fails to absorb you as the sole reality - and only then - if you end up in hell, well then, make it your home; but so long as you remember that you are separate from it, you may travel to hells and heavens as you wish. You have been there, done that; you traveled here, traveled there, traveled through infinite stars; now in the body - in this body, a spirit incarnated into a newborn kind of humanity, of mortals.

Oh yes, and yet I resolved not to squander it and to tread my own paths - the alchemical labor of alchemical paths. And from such a heroic perspective, this life - whether downcast as a beggar, a tormented soul, or a great emperor - all lies within the wheel of fortune. But how you approach it: you may be a mighty emperor-beggar, or an emperor who is a wretched wretch. Simple as that. And in this discourse, I merely wished to express my wholesome satisfaction and gratitude toward the divine and the infernal for fulfilling my life and rounding it into a form of completeness.

In Buddhism and Hindu traditions, skulls symbolize vanquished illusions that at times attempt to speak once more, attempting to draw you back to your damaged senses - and that signifies you have not completed it perfectly, that you are not perfectly detached. And detachment is not indifference. You can act and engage, yet you are separate. You can feel that you may commit yourself, yet you are detached. You can wage your battles, assemble your armies, yet you are detached. You can laugh, you can hate, you can create grand things or petty things full of hatred, yet you are detached, and it does not grip you; you do not allow yourself to be captured.

For so long as you are not captured, you are free. And that which men love most in their primal state as civilized human beings is that which is beautiful, that which is just, and that which is free. Now, I could transition to the concepts of beauty, freedom, and justice, but these are highly complex phenomena and definitions; yet they are also partisan forces. There is the force of beauty, the power of justice, and the force of freedom. Do not explain this to a slave - they will not comprehend it. They yearn for it, yet find substitutes - surrogates of surrogates. What strikes one about the powers of ideas is that when you feel they are honestly stripped down to nothingness, you know they are ontological forces as ideas. They are real, free, and beautiful.

And so it is with every power - the power of destruction. If you are stripped down to zero from your mortal shell and feel the power of destruction catalyzing the force of pure, raging natural destruction, you know that this is the idea, unblemished and untainted by your mortal mind, the senses of your body, your heart, your soul. It is pure power passing through, and its perfection consists in your catalyzing pure power - pure and unbridled. Magicians modulate these powers. If this pure power comes unto you, how do you coordinate it, how do you manage it? You stain it, you tarnish it, and thereby you deny it and kill it. It reaches your mind in a distorted fashion, like a mortal monkey seeking to command great powers, because you dwell within your biological cocoon, and your mind, brain, nervous system, and soul are constrained.

And yet there are those who have ascended among the mountains and permitted these powers to live through them. Now they wish to convey that this is a worthy struggle - whether it be love, destruction, hatred, greatness, compassion, nobility - to encounter the powers and forces, even if but once in a lifetime, yet never to lose the thread, never to lose understanding, even as they fade in the memory you know, and to follow them to the very end.

The Nightmare of Writers and Academics: Perspectives - The Dawn of Mass Mediocrity Facilitated by Artificial Intelligence and the Death of Authenticity

The nightmare of writers and academics: perspectives - the dawn of mass mediocrity facilitated by artificial intelligence and the death of authenticity.

Whom shall future generations of students trust? Their professors, amidst a crisis of authority, or LLM-AI?

Granted: stylistics, pragmatics, English language usage, literature reviews - all of it. In the present, emerging era of artificial intelligence, people republish posts on Facebook comprised entirely of content generated by AI. People who read no books, people who possess no broad, varied, or incisive knowledge of the styles of diverse writers and authors, are simply incapable of comprehending or discerning what is generated by artificial intelligence and what is penned by an authentic author. This induces a sickness of authorship - specifically leading me, as one of many authors, to write no longer. I wish to have nothing to do with it. Let people fashion their stories with artificial intelligence. That is fine.

I entertain great hope, however, that the very notion of artificial intelligence shall compel people to yearn for something authentic, performative - something that will engender specialized knowledge in a realm that artificial intelligence is incapable of replicating. That is to say: from the mind, from the heart, from the soul, through the typewriter, unto writing, unto the performative arts, unto theatre that shall unite humanity. That is an optimistic vision for the development of artificial intelligence.

Nevertheless, knowing the noise within the noosphere, the general trends, and the focus of those browsing TikTok and the like with the attention span, insight, and concentration of a goldfish, I must observe that this marks a kind of end to an era. Specialized works shall endure, as shall academic papers and so forth. Yet it shall undoubtedly slay within people the will to transmit authentic stories, owing to its immediacy. This is an oneiric epoch of reproducing narratives from a dead zone - narratives possessing absolutely no connection to the human heart, mind, soul, or their humanity. It is a virtuality within virtuality: Plato's nightmare.

Whither does this lead? To the debilitation of the human intellect. The weakening of the human mind, rendering it incapable of conveying anything useful or meaningful by means of its own faculties. It shall supplant the capacity for critical thought only to construct synthetic narratives that are neither well-researched nor known, nor stylistically correct, nor nuanced, nor discernible - resembling nothing so much as the lowest common denominator of the populist, right-wing sector.

Thus, you strike the core where all emotions and all mediocrity mingle and erupt like scum. And anyone utilizing artificial intelligence today can feign being a genuine author or a true genius who devises anything at will, can they not? It is, of course, merely a tool; yet it is a tool that has outgrown human capacity to comprehend it - or at least the skill to employ it - for masters shall remain masters in their art and science. They may utilize artificial intelligence to sustain themselves, whereas the ordinary user, who has never achieved excellence in anything, employs this tool solely to appease his internal sense of talent, significance, meaningfulness, and the illusion of making a substantial contribution.

Yet such is this era. We shall not alter it. It is realpolitik. Thus, once again, I pray you: strive to seek out authentic art, performative arts, music, genuinely authentic sciences - social sciences, natural sciences - narratives wrought by human hands alone, free from any support of artificial intelligence promoting the talentlessness of mediocrity. For in so doing, you preserve the humanities.

Otherwise, you shall drown in a sea, an ocean of mediocrity, of repetitive tales and interchangeable narratives stemming from a library of content that bears no relation to the individualization of solitary human beings who live through their history, live through their pain, and endure that struggle and sweat to engage themselves.

And you shall have this new breed of shallow people, narcissistically attempting to feign a facade of something meaningful and important within their echo chambers.

Recently, I observed a rather curious exchange of comments among people deliberating whether a written text and narrative were composed by artificial intelligence or by a genuine, authentic writer. This bears witness to the functional illiteracy of the majority of such commentators; for a person who reads widely across many authors and styles, possessing a foundational knowledge of semantics, semiotics, pragmatics, rhetoric, meta-rhetoric, and the like, can discern immediately, at first glance, whether something was written by artificial intelligence or not. It requires no great effort if one is well-read.

I comment upon this, however, because I noticed certain accusations leveled by these functional illiterates against certain authors, alleging that they employ artificial intelligence simply because they could not have conjured something so erudite, intelligent, competent, or stylistically refined. On the other hand, the internet is flooded with nonsense concerning artificial intelligence. Every post, every comment, and so forth - some people are incapable of recognizing whether a real person wrote it, assuming in good faith that such is the case.

Precisely herein lies the dissonance: people possessing absolutely no discernment regarding the immense damage this inflicts upon literature, upon writers, upon authentic authors, cannot even perceive the simple fact of whether something is written from experience, knowledge, soul, heart, craft, spirit, or from the knowledge and generosity of spirit - from character, from an ethos brought into one's creation - or whether it is a large language model (LLM) generating some story, some nonsense, or attempting to edit certain fragments of that text.

For this reason, I ceased writing books around 2022-2023, merely to observe how affairs would unfold. Perhaps it is not a wise course, for a genuine author shall be recognized, and I write niche books. There exist niches within niches: occultism, metaphysics, politics, ethics, and so forth. Yet I comprehend how much ruin this can wreak upon true, general authors.

I speak not of grand literature, belles-lettres, epics, and the like, for such prose is exceedingly rare today. It scarcely exists. There is no longer any grand literature - no Dostoevsky, no Tolstoy. Yet I assume we shall soon drown in this AI-generated content within your online bookstores, when anyone may be a writer and an author. Not a bad idea, is it? The question remains: what do they contribute? Is a person devoid of experience and knowledge capable of writing a decent book? No; yet such a person is now equipped with a narrative engine that shall perform the task for them, though they have nothing to contribute to the domain of human experience.

I am no modern Luddite. I live at peace with artificial intelligence - with realpolitik, do I not? Yet it strips much humanity from the human spirit, divested of human experience: the exertion, the cognitive processing, the profound emotional comprehension accompanied by deep insight into it.

Thus, from Plato's cave we depart unto Plato's catacombs, and from Plato's catacombs we proceed unto virtuality, VR, simulacra, and artificial intelligence. There we lie bound in chains within black pitch, enclosed in a box, an echo chamber. It is curious how this shall unfold. I am a most attentive observer of future events, yet I am no Cassandra, for one never truly knows. So we shall see.

Are we modern Luddites? Rather, we are individuals who perceive that history does not merely repeat itself; it clothes itself in ever newer forms of nightmares as the world marches on, despite warnings regarding the loss of grand matters. History was not always "the same" - that is the curse of men mired in the present, in the words of Goethe: "devoid of the discernment of three thousand years of history across diverse cultures, civilizations, historiographies of ideas, and vast social transformations."

Speeches in the Octagon - What is the Meaning of Practicing the Mysteries?

So I resolved to move to this small town in this Silesian region of Poland. Why? Because it is considerably cheaper than the capital. It is far quieter here. There are abundant forests and curious, content-rich tales regarding the "other side."

Here is a brief depiction of how to explore the Mithraic mysteries and what it entails: the initiations of the Corax and the Hyena, followed in turn by the female counterpart of the Nymphus-Venus, and subsequently, as we approach the soldier (Miles) - Mars, then Perseus (the Moon), and thereupon whither? To the Jovian Lion (Leo) and Lioness (Lea), the solar Heliodromoi, and the Saturnian Pater Patrum and Mater Matrorum.

Near Leptis Magna, an attested sarcophagus was discovered stating that there lay a Lea and a Leo: "Qui iacet lea, qui iacet leo." Thus there reposes the lion and the lioness of the Mithraic mysteries.

And when the zodiacal labors - the 12 zodiacal labors of Heracles - are completed, there stands the Vir Unus: the finished man, not perfect, but fulfilled! There exist also planetary intelligences, uncounted myriads of spirits, who likewise pass through the depictions of the zodiac, the full zodiacal wheel. Treading these paths is the Via Regia, the steps upon the Ziggurat, Jacob's Ladder; thus it is an alchemy of personality transformation for the soul, the psyche, the daimon, so as to be compatible with those realms of the planetary spheres into which one desires to enter, up to the possibility of liberation into the spheres of the stars, with entrusted duties and stations suited to our labor and nature.

There are no evil Archons regarding your path; there are questioning forces inquiring whether you are prepared, whether you are ready to attain that rank to become compatible with the nature of those planets, and so forth - so many uncounted flames descending through the solar entrance of all interdependent souls within the solar system drawn from the Anima Mundi of Hecate through the gates of Cancer at the solar equinox, exiting in Capricorn during the winter solstice through Saturn. As you know, Saturn is bound to Capricorn, where the rectification of the animal soul attains, through labor and pain, a cosmic, starry level.

Why Saturn? Because it concerns the known planets. Uranus was discovered in the eighteenth century, and subsequently humanity discovered Neptune and Pluto as further spheres - Pluto being not entirely a planet according to astronomical, objective physical observations.

What, then, are initiations? Are they some indication that you are a Corax, or a Lion? No. These ranks were strictly bound in epithalamium to a certain measure of recognition, confirmation, and attainment of rank within and attested by the spheres - for instance, the rank of the Lion. The Lion favored being honest and truthful like the sun, like the Heliodromoi, a kind of Roman version of Seraphim "running around the sun," Peripsol.

All pacts and treaties in ancient Rome were concluded beneath the sun, for truth, honesty, and justice were represented by the Sun, Apollo, Helios - the visible star; Aion/Zervan-Akarana and Hyperion were transcendental forms uniting all these stars through teletarchic, Chaldean realities.

Entering into the generative world thus leads through a corridor of fire that acquires a human body, a human mask of perspective. Can those born of the sun return to the Sun? No, for we are contaminated by physis (matter, zoe, bion). Our path thus wends under the providence of our mighty Sun, our sovereign without, through the outer planets unto the stars, and we commence our journey, our odyssey, to discover at the very end our beloved Penelope within the transcendental spheres. It is mournful that we are in a sense exiled, yet within this affirmation suspended between despair, longing, and horror, we forge heroic paths.

Hence Odous - we are travelers. We are pilgrims upon the Earth who unceasingly yearn for union with this objective divinity - of the stars, if one may say so. And it is the labor of a lifetime to ascend within these ranks and wedge one's forces where we have triumphantly conquered, never to return again to lesser states.

Should we suffer a fall, it signifies that something went awry in our capacity to shape, confront, and form ourselves as a human being, as a human mortal animal that aspires to something divine. Thus they are inadmissible. There are, of course, enemies of the cause seeking to prevent the human mortal ape and animal creature from returning from Dionysus Zagreus to the retinue of gods, stars, and goddesses.

And in studying these myths and legends - as Emperor Julian, Julian the Apostate, noted - myths are for teething children. They merely serve to allow the comprehension of deeper powers within human modes of understanding. And if you are capable of perceiving like a mystic, like a philosopher, the powers and objective ontologies - both external and internal - then you are well upon the path.

And those who can comprehend the doctrine of coincidences are by no means imbeciles as practitioners of magic and the Via Regia, as Giordano Bruno once noted before he was burned at the stake in 1600. Why is this worthy? Why is it grand?

We yearn for freedom, do we not? We yearn for justice. We yearn for greatness, heroization, the personification of our existence. But if we fail to achieve this, it signifies that we have been led astray. A curse is something that deprives us of divinity. A curse is something that takes nature and wounds it, so that it cannot recognize itself. Just as a wounded lion thinks solely of pain and the arrow within its flesh. That is a form of curse. Let not ignorance, illusion, or other more malevolent and spiteful designs curse you - whether willingly or not - and enter upon this path, for it is worthy, gratifying, honest, and truly eternal.

Witch-General - Dead Shadow Witches as Maternal Archetypes

"The true power of witchcraft is not born from the shrieks of spoiled girls nor from the farce of modern illusions, but from the silence of the Mistress of the Dead - the shadow witches who guard memory, balance, and the threshold between life and death; before them, every falsehood pales, for their wisdom is older than wrath, and their gaze deeper than the dark."

In the ancient world, it was said that a witch's renown preceded her long before she ever appeared. I would fain contrast the notion of modern witchcraft - corrupted, LGBT, fraudulent, degenerated, postmodern, dysregulated, undisciplined, foolish, pathetic, and pampered - with the idea of primordial witchcraft. Take, for example, Silesian or Germanic witchcraft. Long ago, when I wandered into the vicinity of the Gold Mountains in Lower Silesia, I roamed the forest by night, and through my second, thanaturgic sight, I beheld a three-meter-tall witch who revealed unto me the Vegvísir - good tidings for the journey ahead. What was her nature? She was, among other things, disciplined, mighty, and wise. She was a strong, beautiful woman - in stark contrast to the modern, rotten dregs aspiring to the title of "mighty women."

The Vestal Priestesses were virgins, yet at the same time formidable women. They could shape the course of politics. And now, how do you conceive of being a modern witch if you are mocked by the Black Mothers on the other side? At best, you are a spoiled brat with a bewildered mind. You could not tread the battlefield to bind the souls of fallen soldiers. You could not take a thorn and drive it into the hands or minds of men to check them when they too recklessly disregarded the wisdom of the other side and of the feminine nature.

I once experienced two visions. One presented a black shroud with a necklace of dried flowers about the neck; I kissed her shroud - I believe it was the fate of the sacrificed Vestal Priestesses, consecrated to the sacred, chthonic black fire. The second vision manifested during a telephone conversation with a priestess friend. During our discourse, she mentioned a divine, strangely warm fire, and a moment later I felt arms about my neck, hands gliding toward my solar plexus. Behind me stood a figure clad in gold and white. I smiled and mentioned to my friend that I was reading of the holy order of the Vestals.

When a Christian maiden committed sacrilege by stealing jewelry from the statue of Vesta, a Vestal pointed her finger at her and declared: "This shall be the final night of thy life." The Christian girl perished that very night in terrible convulsions as punishment for her deed. It was intriguing to discover that, much like in the Eleusinian Mysteries, the Vestals soothed the eidola and shrouds of the departed, expelling them from Rome or dissolving their shadows. This function has long been forgotten, for in Catholic necromantic ritual, they can merely place the souls of the dead into the grave for a period of incubation, rather than aiding them.

There exist two keys to these mysteries:

Understand Vesta as naught other than living fire;

Thou seest that no bodies are born of fire.

Therefore is she rightly held to be a virgin,

Who yieldeth no seed, conceiveth none,

And loveth company in maidenhood.

(Ovid, Fasti 6.291-294)

The living fire is bound to the citadel, to the septagram in arithmetical theology; it is indivisible - a divine fire that consumes all impurities and is enclosed within itself by the bodies of holy flame. It is immortal, linked to the fiery corridors of the sun within Hyperionic realities in a pneumatic sense, and that is the realm where holy daemones and gods abide, partaking in the wild, unquenchable, Hypersolar Hecatic ignis.

While reading, I was torn between understanding the pivotal role these holy women fulfilled in Rome - their standing, power, wealth, and fortune - and the imperative of women to participate in their sexual nature. The penalty for breaking their vow was severe, yet the core purpose was the preservation of the pillars of Roman society. Considering all the privileges and duties enjoyed by the Vestals, I comprehend that ritual purification was necessary in this context. After all, nuns - an order modeled upon the Vestals, yet divested of power, wealth, political influence, and legal privileges - were a submissive iteration of formidable congregations of women subjected to the Church. Owing to the patriarchal nature of Roman society, the Vestals, alongside the matrons, were the women endowed with the greatest rights within that civilization.

What I have learned from the dark witches of the other side - from those shadowy ones, from the undead - is that they are stern, disciplined, wise, mighty, and majestic. It is they who constitute the lodge of the Mistress of the Dead - an archetype that is not a single person, but a congregation of souls, memory, and ritual. The Mistresses of the Dead are the guardians of thresholds and boundaries, watching over the balance between life and death. They are capable of restoring the names of the forgotten, sealing that which ought to depart, and safeguarding order where chaos attempts to sever the threads of fate.

Their power is neither loud nor spectacular; it is profound, patient, and pervasive as shadow. They are the memory that forbids oblivion, and the boundary that restores meaning. I have seen how, in dreams, they can visit the living to instruct, to reveal truth, and at times to wound, should someone profane death or mock its majesty. It is they who teach silence; it is they who demand reverence - and they harbor no tolerance for modern, spoiled brats who abuse the concept and definition of what a woman is or ought to be.

I am a man; I possess a masculine perspective. Yet from the perspective of a woman - if she receives and consecrates the seed - matters assume a different aspect: she acquires a masculine perspective, much as when a sorcerer consecrates menstrual blood and consumes it, he acquires a feminine perspective. Thus, if you truly wish to model yourselves after the witches, then measure up to them. For most of you within Gardnerian Wiccan circles and the like are merely pampered children who bear no relation to your archetypes. A truly wise woman knows how to govern men through subtle methods. A spoiled fool is merely an enraged, dysregulated woman - easily predicted, easily controlled, easily pacified.

Beware, rather, of silent women - silent, wise, and strong. For like wise, quiet men, they are capable of plotting in a most venomous manner to destroy. Fear not those enraged fools and simpletons; they are read like an open book, exposed to view, easy to interpret and toy with. But the Mistress of the Dead - the silent, undead witches of the shadows - are not so easily seen through. They are the guardians of memory and dark justice. They hold the equilibrium between the world of the living and the dead. Before them one ought to bow, for their power is older and greater than the wrath of any living woman.

Yet a wise woman is rarely encountered. A strong woman is rarely encountered. A woman worthy of reverence is rarely encountered. Do, therefore, as you will, but remain mindful that the realm of death holds a vastly different vantage point. The Mistress of the Dead beholds you otherwise than you behold yourselves.

When I was a newly minted magician, I resided in Aberystwyth, Wales, in a cottage - Heul Alwn 23 in Waun Fawr. I practiced my rituals late into the night: the silence of the lamps and the breath of the sea. And one night, two black hands appeared, hurling me outside the circle - so forcefully that, flying two meters, I struck the sofa opposite. A safe landing, yet a shock that opened something else. Then, a black lady in a white mask pointed at me; when she removed it, a skull lay beneath. About her gathered chthonic vermin, various demons, as though seeking to render me a daemoniacus. She taught me gestures; I was then a disciple of her silence - imitating her, mimicking her with filial tenacity.

Upon returning to Warsaw, I heard "vaffanculo" upon the streets - I was "possessed" by her as a witch's son. I learned (in communications, in dreams) that she was an Italian strega from the quattrocento period, burned at the stake in her youth by the Inquisition. Years later, she appeared to me as a young maiden in the height of summer, vanishing immediately after my gaze met hers. Later still, when I pined for my teacher, I beheld her radiant, fiery countenance among the stars - and tears welled in my eyes, for behold - after five hundred years of observing the excesses of uncounted mortals - my mother, my teacher, my maestra had attained the stars and freedom.

That experience in Aberystwyth taught me that the Mistresses of the Dead do not act violently to indulge in terror - they act through initiation, through memory, through the bestowal of roles: the disciple of silence, the bearer of the name, the guardian of the threshold. Their power is older than any fashion; it is the memory that restores the names of the forgotten and seals that which ought to depart. Therefore, if you truly wish to model yourselves after the witches, seek not merely the shriek and the manifesto - measure up to them through silence, discipline, and humility before the boundaries they guard.

Have you ever pondered why the Church - specifically the Vatican and the Judeo-Christian institution - eliminated women, accusing them of sorcery? Austin Osman Spare, the eminent British occultist and magician, speculated in his esoteric musings that folk witchcraft was a degenerated form of the sacerdotal bloodline of women, endowed in a manner that today we would term psionic.

This power passed through female lines, through souls and through mitochondrial DNA, as well as through certain occult, transmigrationary dispositions that were not directly bound to DNA, but to an unbroken lineage of transmission. Every lineage of such female witch-blood terminated in male offspring, unless they united with a psionically gifted woman and begot daughters. Those daughters extended the ancestry.

How do I know this? My grandmother, though raised in the spirit of Catholicism, was a potent psionicist: electronic devices malfunctioned when she entered a room, crystals shattered, lightbulbs burst. She suppressed this within herself through Catholicism, fearing she might harm others. Failing to master this skill and this blood, she stifled it in religion. Thus she suffered terribly and developed cancer, departing in 2007.

What were the interests of the Vatican in eliminating such female lineages? Above all, they challenged the authority and the lies promulgated for centuries, including the primacy over so-called Vatican magic and sacerdotal celibacy/sexuality.

Upon examining the lineages of my grandmother and great-grandmother through mitochondrial tests, I discovered that I carry within me Germanic, Thessalian, and Bithynian bloodlines, extending as far as Syria. Thus I have, as I like to say, an army of grandmothers standing behind me.

I impart this as a warning and a narrative of retribution against Judeo-Christian institutions that destroyed so many sacerdotal classes of women, altering them - if they feared - into passive nuns. In short, from this one may deduce and derive all else.

Wise women are rare. Strong women are rare. But the Mistress of the Dead - the silent, undead witches of the shadows - endure beyond time. Their gaze pierces through centuries; their presence teaches that true power is no mere demonstration, but memory and balance. I am here merely as a mediator.

Rhetorica ad Populum: A Word on Rhetoric

At this nocturnal hour, while my friends sleep - save for a few shadow witches running near the gates of the dead - I should like to focus upon the rhetorical inquiries of metarhetoric and rhetoric.

Here is a handbook of classical rhetoric in the Hellenistic period, edited by Stanley E. Porter. I would fain read its introduction, which is truly a formidable work, I must confess; for few people in contemporary times study rhetoric - to say nothing of applying it or uniting it with the art of memory, ars memoriae, to know how to arrange, invent, stylize, and deliver their speeches, drawing from the catalogues and artifacts of the imagination to transmit them in an appropriate manner.

At times in the smooth, snowflake-like style of Odysseus, and at times in the more tense and sharp style of Tyrtaeus. Let us read then: what is rhetoric?

The Greek word rhetoriké appears in Plato's Gorgias, likely composed in the second decade of the fourth century BCE. Socrates employs it, and the sophists Gorgias and his disciple Polus accept it without protest to describe téchné - that is, the art of public speaking. Gorgias practiced it and instructed others, while Polus published certain writings on the subject. The definition of rhetoric as Peithos Demiurgos - the craft of persuasion - was strictly political. Peitho was the goddess of eloquence and restraint in speech, for to be a good orator, one must possess moderation.

One does not scatter information to the left and right like a child babbling about everything, but selects from the arsenal of knowledge and experience those elements that suit the audience, so as to move them in some measure. Parenthetically - this is not strictly rhetorical, but rather performative. What we term rhetoric was perceived as a practice as early as the fifth century, though the word rhetoriké itself does not appear in any extant text from that era. The expression téchné lógon - the art of words, speech, or discourse - was more frequently used. Some contend that Plato coined the word rhetoriké, which may have borne pejorative connotations, originating from the word rhétor - an orator, often signifying a politician, one who seeks to persuade or influence us. And all influence lies beyond morality; hence one must learn to influence before succumbing to the influence of millions who were themselves previously shaped by the rhetorical persuasions of politicians. This, too, is a question of freedom.

Thereupon emerges Corax, and of course the Rhetorica ad Herennium, attributed to Cicero (though this remains a subject of debate). In this work, the function of the orator is the capacity to speak on matters defined by law and custom for the good of the commonwealth, and to secure - so far as possible - the favor of the audience. This concerns common knowledge, the scope and frame of the speech, and that which is permissible within a given society. It is a matter of eliminating extremes and maintaining moderation in the center in order to act effectively.

Therefore, we compartmentalize information. In intelligence or governmental discourse, one does not convey everything to the public, for chaos would reign. Likewise, individuals possessing specialized knowledge ought not to speak of it everywhere and to everyone - that would be pure nonsense. At best, they would encounter laughter or indifference; at worst - isolation or placement in a psychiatric institution.

I should like, therefore, to present a brief overview of Greek and Latin rhetorical styles. What are the fundamental constituent parts of an oration? In Aristotle's Rhetoric (Books I and II), the primary element is dianoia - thought, inspired by pronoia, goddesses, or gods. It matters little; what is essential is that it originates from our own mind - from our autonomy, authority, and capacity to employ experience and knowledge to construct a speech. This is heuresis or inventio - the invention of what we wish to say before we utter it.

Modern people frequently forget that one does not utter everything one thinks. First you think, then you speak - thus is mastery over oneself and over the audience cultivated. Next, we have lexis (elocutio) - style, and taxis (dispositio) - arrangement. It is the art of how to structure a serious debate, a light conversation, or a beautiful address. The subsequent part is hypokrisis (actio) - the delivery of the speech. I myself am now delivering a speech - I pondered it, invented it, arranged it, selected the style and mode of execution, and now I present it.

To this are added the means of persuasion - unartistic ones and those based upon téchné, that is, artistic ones. Every speech carries within itself also the character of the speaker, which is ethos. To persuade effectively, the orator ought to be of good disposition - he then possesses greater persuasive power. An evil, malicious speaker - his tongue is severed at the moment of utterance and either no one listens to him, or he arouses hate, indifference (cry-wolf!) and intolerance of the crowds.

I myself have experienced many times that an excess of words can prove ruinous. Words were not created for cowards; they can summon invisible forces. Therefore, when you speak into the abyss, when you complain, weep, or express joys and anxieties, it is not merely human communication - wondrous beings are listening to you as well. One must only discover the proper language for them.

I deliver this address to encourage people toward rhetoric. For one can speak beautifully; one can speak well, pouring heart, soul, mind, and spirit into it. One can act through aletheia - truth, through mnemosyne - memory, through beauty and the muses, through virtues that have been forgotten yet not destroyed - for they are immortal. It is merely that men have turned away from them and ceased to claim that they are inspired. Thank you.

On the Aim of High Magic - The Right-Hand Path in a Pagan Context

Perfect magic is a flawless intellectual, valuable, pneumatic, sexual, and physiologically performative formula that subtly and magnificently aligns with the objective laws of the universe. This is exceedingly difficult to attain, for our biological forms are constrained, and the art is replete with mirages, pitfalls, minefields of delusion, and ignorance - often fed by the enemies of human deification and operators of magic. Our cognition, imagination, intellectualizations, and souls are limited; our daimones possess varied dispositions, and our consciousness weaves itself in diverse manners with other worlds.

I should like to present several techniques that may prove useful in your own purposeful practice. I practice ceremonial magic, which encompasses artistic symphonies, performative gestures, varied tongues, symbols, incantations, invocations, evocations, emanations, mediumizations, and avatarizations - and is strictly bound to collaboration with the Gods, the Angeli Bonum, the Agathos Daimones, Heroes, Masters, Mistresses, and the spirits of many worlds, hells, and abysses.

Can one display the subtle art of magic to another? At times yes, at times no. Those who seek to prove anything are swiftly turned into buffoons; it is a solitary path wherein the greatest events transpire far from the rest of mortal men. At present, I can visualize a triangle in hues of red, gold, and silver within three-dimensional space, which I can subtly materialize and behold. Is it a real object, or merely my subjective imagination? Am I truly projecting a form of energy that allows me to see a triangle with an eye at its center? I can rotate it, accelerate it, halt it, and record its symbol in cuneiform script - signifying a shield inscribed within the symbol of Shamash.

I hold these three elements in memory while simultaneously projecting them from the imagination into 3D space. It is a small module utilizing symbols that may or may not be recognized. You require intention and tradition - that which is consecrated within this practice. For instance, in accordance with the tradition of the Egyptians, I can write a cartouche upon papyrus and imbue it with the intention of transmitting my respects to the teachers. Currently, I project a golden letter, sending it upward, observing how white wings bear my message to the gods. An instanced broadcast.

There exist numerous techniques, including barbara onomata - the unknown tongues employed during the Eleusinian processions from Athens to Eleusis. Though these words possess no literal meaning within that context, they served as demonstrations. When we enter sacred space, everything assumes gravity - a gravity stemming from our devotion and sincerity. The demonstrations I showcased earlier belonged to the profanum; they might serve for vocal exercises, the dances of the Salii, or collaboration with the intelligences of the planetary spheres - for example, during the hour of Mars or the retrogradation of Saturn, according to tradition or discretionary experience.

Everything we introduce into the mind and senses influences our aesthetics, mode of thought, and intellectualization of circumstances. The technician of learned magic is, in essence, a civilized shaman. The nobler, more sincere, resonant, and ethical his practice, the more his deeds become concentrated, charged with energy, and effective - and the greater the prospect of influencing things or men. The grand speeches of the magician are heard by spirits and souls throughout the world, whereas petty or malevolent words are cast aside - the natural order of things.

Magic may encompass encryption, the creation of codes, or systems of symbols. The primary objective is to influence the world and act upon oneself - mystics seek to receive and be acted upon; magicians seek to act, command, and catalyze. The technician of magic strives to realize a vision, inspiring intelligences to counteract destruction or destabilize a system to achieve a goal. It is like being a lesser god - efficacy depends upon talent and training. A fool attempts to replicate the steps of the magic technician without understanding the foundations of his being, achieving no results whatsoever.

The tools and techniques within the arsenal of the magic technician are many; they are developed over years, refining every element, while unused organs atrophy. A portion of these skills may derive from communion with spirits, gods, or demons, but that which becomes yours belongs to you alone. Every path is individual; unless you individualize yourself, you shall attain only borrowed or superficial things.

A modular approach to the subtle art of magic permits the employment of tools as necessity demands. A paramount objective is the liberating aim - magic serves not for mere tricks, but for growth in power within the planetary spheres, both in life and posthumously, where the duties and weight of entrusted tasks far surpass mortal burdens. You strive for greater reach and influence within the order of things. This is a worthy aim - metaphysical inspiration allows one to inspire those below and in other realms.

The magical worldview tolerates no end - everything is in motion and transformation: life and death, bios and thanatos. Throughout life, we labor toward beauty and depth, at times cunningly, adapting to circumstances and people, crafting relationships, masks, and identities. Yet between ourselves and the gods, there reigns complete sincerity and resonance.

On Contemporary Deist Nobilitas ('Pagans'), and Judeo-Christian Monotheists

I am fully aware of the consequences of all this; hence, I practice pagan elitism. This is no mere selection of a lifestyle - it is a conscious, total commitment, a choice demanding from a human being endurance, resilience, and profound reflection. Do you truly imagine that had I not participated in auto-phaneia, in a deep mutual understanding with my traditions and my own spiritual heritage, I would not long ago have thrown up my hands at everything, choosing some Christian conservatism in the recursion of modernity? It is not a matter of caprice, but of necessity; for without this contact, without this ritual and intimate labor with symbols, with ideas, with my masters and Deities, the world becomes chaos, and life - a void.

Envision a moment when you gaze into the nocturnal sky, and against the backdrop of the stars you behold, among other things, the Caducei - pagan symbols of power, knowledge, and transformation.

You are then presented with two paths:

Psychiatry, which endeavors to explain everything normatively,

or religion, which in its simplicity and dogmatism informs you

that this is "Satan," because these are pagan symbols.

Under such circumstances, it is impossible to remain indifferent. Any person might fall prey to one of these institutions - succumbing to societal pressure, admitting fear and doubt into their mind.

And yet, there exists a third path - the path I have chosen. Despite potential madness, despite the world's incomprehension, despite the risk of stigmatization and isolation, one may loyally follow the path indicated by one's own tradition. This demands total devotion, unceasing commitment, and the fortitude to preserve spiritual integrity in times that have long ceased to tolerate such deviations. It is a practice that teaches patience, self-discipline, and a profound comprehension of symbols - a comprehension attainable solely when you do not avert your gaze nor yield to pressure.

In this sense, pagan elitism is not merely an idea, but a mode of survival - not biological, but spiritual. It is the conscious assumption of responsibility for one's own consciousness, for one's own experiences, and for the values one has chosen. It is the knowledge that true illumination does not arrive easily, often requiring one to stand face to face with fear, derision, and the potential rejection of the entire world. Only in this manner may one preserve fidelity to oneself and to the tradition of which one is the guardian.

Now, when encountering adherents of the Judeo-Christian faith, declaring oneself to be nobilitas or a pagan - as Christians disdainfully termed us from the fourth century CE onward - one must remember that nobilitas was a title reserved for the senatorial class of Rome, for the knights of Rome who adhered to the old faith: that is, the pre-Galilean, pre-Christian faith.

One frequently encounters the opinion that as civilized nobilitas - that is, pagans - we merely substitute the entire belief system with polytheism. However, the situation is entirely otherwise. The nobilitas possess a completely different theology - mysteric, cultic, soteriological; a completely different philosophy as the love of wisdom; a different humanitas (attributes of humanity); a different set of virtutes (the constellation of virtues one incorporates); a different system of responsibility for one's own life, without delegating it elsewhere. They possess also a different mode of communion with deities, goddesses, and providence, a different system of classifying metaphysical beings, as well as a different ethics and morality which, in its strength, is relative - taking into account diverse civilizations and cultures while safeguarding humanity.

All these distinctions are intriguing, for individuals rooted in Judeo-Christian culture translate everything back into their own belief system. When one speaks of theology or deities, it is interpreted from their perspective: God is one. Yet this is merely their simulation, their hermeneutic interpretation of what their Jewish God is. For the nobilitas pagan, deities are something else entirely - they may be manifestations of cosmic forces, they may be masks or archetypes, but it is likewise not forbidden for a human being, as a lesser god or goddess - which was widespread in the Greco-Roman world - to ascend to the daemonic level: that is, deification.

The daimon, as a personal spirit or a form of super-pneuma (pneuma - soul), was obligated to obey the hegemon, which was its sovereignty. Conversely, the daimon exercised hegemony over the soul, and the mind was yoked to the body. In the pagan world, harmony reigned - there existed no Manichaean division into good and evil, light and darkness. Harmony signified that everything was regulated in such a manner as to function smoothly, driving a wedge neither into society nor into the individual, so as not to render him a binary slave subsequently scaffolded by guilt, doctrine, dogmas, shame, alien moral codes, suffering, self-flagellation, or the invention of original sin.

The essence of the nobilitas lay in the capacity of a human being to be libertas - free, responsible, and individualized - and to heroically embody certain principles into one's life while discovering the world and reifying, embodying within oneself metaphysical laws by the measure of oneself and the realization of stars co-comprehended with the heavens. There was nothing improper in being wealthy, famous, or grand, provided it was genuinely anchored in the principles of nobilitas. The Judeo-Christians, however, inverted this, proclaiming that it is evil to be wealthy, magnificent, and brilliant, and good to be a self-flagellating slave within their closed system of morality. What consequences - a mere swine wallowing in wealth and fame remains a swine, not a human being of principles and values.

Paganism was not a universalist religion. It did not assume, like the Judeo-Christian projection, that its doxological paradigm encompassed the absolute entirety of the universe. That was flawed reasoning, for the universe was saturated with diverse forces and powers. The ontology of forces, Platonic ideas, reified themselves in deities and goddesses. Following Porphyry, the Neoplatonist, deities do not contradict nature, whereas it appears that Judeo-Christians contradict nature, believing their deity to be in accord solely with themselves.

Can a nobilitas pagan be a good person? Naturally so, just as an atheist can be a good person, guided by an ethical code socialized in various manners. Such a person realizes virtues rationally, apprehends ideas, and contemplates them in a self-reflective manner. It is frequently asserted that only Christians can be good in their own understanding. Meanwhile, a constellation of beliefs does not condition whether someone is a good or evil person. What matters are the effects of actions - as in the Mahayana perspective of Buddhism. If actions are destructive and foolish, it signifies that the religious system conditioned the individual in that manner.

To declare that "religion is not evil, people are evil" is a simplification. Religion - that is, a system of belief programs within minds - conditions the outcomes and postures of cognitive, emotional, and performative behavior.

I have delivered numerous lectures on Hellenistic theology, on the distinctions in the economy of souls between Egyptian, Scandinavian, and Greco-Roman spiritual politics. I have brought forward Akkadian beliefs concerning the Tree of Life, which were later transposed in serpentine and draconic mysteries unto Egypt and the Greco-Roman world. Among the nobilitas, there was nothing improper in being initiated into multiple cultic, soteriological, pneumatic, or mystagogic mysteries. One might say these are forgotten traditions, yet they continuously exist metaphysically and objectively for appropriate individuals prepared to discover them and - in collaboration with spiritual mysterio-sophers - embody them.