Twisting, Wrenching...

My stomach is in knots. All the anxiety and uncertainty, foreboding and worry I feel has nowhere to manifest it's nervous energy except in the pit of my stomach. I'm warm and out of breath. I can hardy focus my attention on anything, my mind being occupied with keeping this tension from pulling my muscles and organs apart inside this body.

I had almost forgotten how this feels, how it chases away all other sensation away like a tortured, rabid dog, starved for affection and comfort, willing to maim and devour anything nearby. I can feel my heart, not so much beating as it is striking against my ribcage in a seeming attempt to break out through the bars of it's cage.

She sounded nervous on the phone. She's been there for a couple of hours. He's been eyeing her body hungrily for at least that long. I can only imagine the depth of his desire for her flesh - she likes to play with fire. Getting burned has happened often enough to her that it's become an identifyable pattern. I can only Will, hope and pray that she comes back unscorched.

My emotions are mine. I have to seek to change how it feels. I can't expect "the outside" to avoid hurting me in this way, that's foolish. Running will only strengthen the anguish. God, I had forgotten how debilitating this is.

I can't overwhelm myself by thinking that's it's just begun - the first of 4 days (or worse, 3 nights). Stop it!

She told me weeks ago that this trip will not affect our relationship. I never asked her to make specific promises. If I had she would have told me what I wanted to hear regardless of what the actual plan may be. Even assuming she was truthful, plans change. That is something I've learned to expect with her - her word is based only on present emotions, when they shift (or reveal their true character) the plan may easily change.

I can only trust. I can't trust that she won't do something with him. I can't trust that she won't give him the opportunity to do something to her. I can't trust that he won't manufacture an opportunity to do something to her. I can only trust that this is the way it has to be, that this is the way Nature intended for it to be.

All experience is an opportunity to grow, learn and evolve. I have to seize my opportunities here, I must not only cope, but learn to redirect the incoming energy to my benefit. So easily said, yet so immensely daunting.

Something I've learned from art: Deep, nuanced blacks and lower grays provide the image with an enormous potential for contrast. A contrast that lends itself to a stark beauty, full of hues and values pregnant with depth and meaning.

When I set down to draw, I start with the darks. They define the composition and allow for the mental sensation of slowly and carefully "pulling" the image out of the bleakness and chaos. It's only dawned on me recently how symbolically important that process is to me.

Maybe I can understand more if I force myself to perform that symbolic action. Maybe that is my Magick. Perhaps that is my ritual incantation. All of this power and energy MUST go somewhere and if I don't use it for insight and spiritual evolution, it will fester and seep out through the cracks in the walls of my soul, the cracks which are my weaknesses; my drives to self-destruction and torment, self-pity and despair.

How can I avoid using the drawing process as a distraction? That is a question I have to give serious thought to. Right now I need fresh air, I'm starting to feel like I can't breathe again.

Disgusting

I was working tonight, and in the background the tv was playing a program about the history of the mormon church.

There was a part which described how during the time of the industrial revolution in Britain, the church leaders in America decided to send missionaries to convert the poor, destitute, suffering masses of villagers who had been forced into the cities to live and work in truly horrible, dehumanising conditions.

I was struck by the audacity of such a decision. There are many ugly things that people can do to one another, none more deserving of the term "Evil" than those which prey upon and profit from the spiritual desperation of a suffering soul.

Organized religion has made it it's central focus to control and profit from man's natural longing to understand his god, to find communion with the mystical, and to feel himself a part of the beauty that's inherant in the creations of the universe.

There can be no darker evil, than to prey upon another's spiritual deficit. This is a crime for which there is no equal. This is a crime against The Great Spirit Himself, a criminal act set against the magical Beauty of the Mother Universe Herself.

The most sacred part of the human being is her longing to participate in the Love of her creator, that one true ecstacy of spiritual connection, the Truth that is in fact the only truth.

In God's infinite wisdom and love, all things are forgivable and understood in the light of suffering. But I believe that the Karmic effects of hideous acts like these must be the greatest tragedy that a soul can endure.

To set out to gain from that most mystical of all human suffering; the timeless spiritual longing that has created our wisest shaman, our greatest spiritual teachers, our most profound and beautiful works of art and music; makes me feel deeply angry and sick.

What action could possibly be more horrendous and evil than to take advantage of the very highest, most noble and sweetly innocent pursuit that a suffering soul can engage in?

In my opinion, none.

Here. Now.

I think I may have discovered something interesting and useful while at K's. It happened suddenly as we were driving to get fastfood. Out of the blue, I felt a sense of peace, relaxation and appreciation come over me. It was markedly different from how I was feeling only seconds before.

As this feeling washed over me (like a tide, as feelings normally do when I pay attention to them) I instantly tried to analyze the situation. Why was I feeling this way? I noticed something different about my thoughts. They weren't racing, swirling as they normally are - they were still, content to notice and appreciate the environment.

I was hearing the music playing on the CD player (it was The Birthday Massacre), I was seeing the colored lights of the city, I was feeling the night air. I wasn't searching or trying. Most importantly (I think) I wasn't referencing what I was experiencing to past experiences, nor was I thinking about possible future experiences. It was the simple peace of the present moment.

Is this what the Zen Buddists do when they meditate? As they say: Be Here, Now. Because I constantly reference the present moment to similar past or future moments, I tend to dismiss the present with thoughts like, "I've been down this street before," or "I've heard this song before." In doing so I convince myself that I don't need to pay too much attention to the exact moment I find myself in.

When I allow myself to pay close attention, not to the parts that make up a moment (the separate senses), but to the whole that is the mixture of the pieces, I can feel the novelty of the particular mixture. It's the difference between tasting bread and tasting butter, compared to tasting buttered bread.

I continue to experiment with this conscious perceiving. To varying degrees, I always feel a sense of appreciation and peace.

Alchemy and Hermeticism

Hermeticism is something I've always been very interested in. The conclusions that humans have come to and the rituals that they have employed to enlighten themselves throughout the centuries fascinates me. I continue to study the works of the hermeticists, theosophists, and alchemists in an attempt to realize the truth about the nature of the self (selves) and reality.

Last weekend I read Theurgy and The Secret Fire, both written by E. J. Langford Gartsin, which I found at hermetics.org.

A major theme of Alchemical writing is the separation of the soul/mind from the physical body. Having read about this before, I tried it again (I've been experimenting with OBE or Astral Projection for years now). The results were subtle, but important:

I lied in bed, K by my side, asleep. I allowed my body to relax, as I consciously kept my mind awake (the "mind awake, body asleep" technique). I focused on nothingness, and listened to the sounds of my ears. As has happened before, my limbs stiffened, my heart-rate decreased, and I felt myself "drifting". I could feel my subtle body attempting to separate, but the "pull" or "magnetism" of my physical body kept it from it's goal.

After a little while K stirred, half woke up and began rubbing her face with her hands. I couldn't resist and opened my eyes, thinking to myself that she was distracting me from my practice. I said, "Are you ok?" She replied, "I'm washing my face..."

I began thinking about what that meant to me, given The Universe's symbolic language. I came to the conclusion that it was not a distraction, but a communication. In the Alchemical/Hermetic texts, it is stressed that the Adept must "purify" or "cleanse" himself before attempting The Art/Practice. The washing of the face was symbolic of this very cleansing.

I am now faced with the question: What exactly must one do to purify or cleanse one's self? I've taken it as an ethical/spiritual cleansing, i.e., the student must live a life of compassion, humility and suffering before Nature will grant him the privilege of separation (The First Matter).

I must take Her advice and be aware of any opportunities to be compassionate and loving, empathetic and gentle.

I am going on a trip for the holidays, which includes a long plane flight. I intend to find a book to read on the flight. I pray that The Universe puts into my hands the appropriate text.

Thank you Mother for your care and attention. I promise you, it will not be in vain.

Small Epiphanies (are all the rage)

I was struck by some kind of small epiphany tonight/this morning (~2am). Here is the crux of it:

Life is what it is. "Control" is the idea that one must act as a god in their personal world; dictating outcomes and consequences based on one's wishes and notions of that which is preferred. But, in reality, what is, is what is.

I have a choice to make. And it is profound, and may set the course for my view of reality (and, consequently, my place in it).

So, I decided to do laundry at 2am. I wanted to have my white tie cleaned and shiney in case I need it for tomorrow, Halloween. I went to the washer, and having bought a new bottle of bleach yesterday, it had a plastic cover over the lid that needed to be pulled off before I could pour the substance into the wash. I've been drinking vodka, so I'm not thinking too clearly, and I rip the plastic off the lid. In the process I spill/splash some of it onto my new black sweatpants (I get careless when I've been drinking).

Now there is orange spots on my new sweatpants. Fuck, (I think to myself) These are new! Son of a bitch! Then it occurs to me: the sequence of events that led to the bleached splotches was unavoidable, destined even.

So the choice is clear: 1. consider this a problem to be remidied (with black die or something) or 2. accept the inevitable, and live with it (maybe even be glad that Fate has blessed me with a real Choice).

Considering myself somewhat "aware" I realize that the choice could very well effect the rest of my life. Do I choose to see Fate as something maleable and subject to my whims/decisions, or is it something determined, and deserving of acceptance and even reverance?

Tentitively, I choose to see it/Her as something beyond my "control", something to be dealt with, understood, and (gasp) loved. While taking a piss, I decide to not attempt to "correct" the mistake of dropping bleach onto my new sweatpants. Fuck it, you know? If Mother wants my new pants to display the scars of drunken laundry, who the hell am I to argue? I know this flies in the face of all that is American and Masculine, but you know what? I don't give a shit. This is the way it is, and I think I need to start dealing with the fact that I am not in control of the events that effect my life. I would much rather be a co-creator with Life/Mother Nature/God than an adversary vying for control.

I need to remember this. I need to accept. Even if everyone who ever reads this sees this as an insignificant event in an insignificant life, fuck 'em. It is important to me. And when it comes down to it, what the fuck else really matters?