The past is gone. This moment is already passing and there is no rewinding it. There is no reason to dwell in it. It cannot be undone. We can study it and learn from it, but we must ultimately; leave it where it is and move forward beyond it. There are choices presented to us with regard to the past. One might decide to not revisit it or even try to recreate it, but alas; it will never be again.
“Jason King” once stated something to the effect of; there has never been a better time than now. His argument was that; we may wish that we could go back to a different time period, thinking that life was better. However that is a double-edged sword, because with those things we think were better, comes all of the difficulties present at that time as well. I don’t need to look any further than in myself to see the truth in that.
I can’t count the number of times, I have thought to myself, I wish I could go back to this time or that time in my life. I remember different periods of life in which different things were “better”, but they really weren’t. So I eventually accept that, right now is my best moment, and I can be hopeful in tomorrow. Then I realize that, tomorrow is the greatest time for me. You see tomorrow is still unpromised.
Tomorrow is raw Materia. It is a wet lump of clay waiting to be sculpted on the potter’s wheel. I can put my hands in it and use my experience to guide its shape. I can envision its potentialities and form it toward my desired perfection. I can work at it in my own pace, and with practice; I will see my planning meeting with my creativity and experience. Should the A:O will it so, it may even stand up to the tests of time.
As an artist, there is this moment during creation; a realization without realization. It is the intersection of the flow of imagination and the act of creating. It is an Alchemy of the Will. When I was tattooing, I used to call it “getting into my groove”. I have however always recognized it when I manifest. It does not matter the manifestation. For those brief moments, I am awake; I am god. I have tapped into the A:O, and it flows through me.
There are a set of lyrics in a song by White Zombie which have always spoken to me. Thirty plus years and I still haven’t completely decoded what they mean to me but they are these:
Straight to the sun I am a walk’n state of the artWarp Asylum – White Zombie
All that I see [yeah] new Gods move wipp’n the shore and dash on the reef
Surf city… I walk alone and stare, man, right in the sun
Tear-jerk asylum and cemetery run
Well, how’d I ever get this far man
Smooth curves switchback the sweat
Underneath the body, baby
Where what you see is what you see and what you get.
In the summer of 1992, I first heard this song and I was instantly enchanted by these words. The line “straight to the sun, I am a walk’n state of the art” caught my ear and the resonance was almost deafening. That instance, I was transported to a distant futuristic hellscape of dried up beaches just “Beyond the Thunderdome” and I was tagging everything in sight. Later in life, I realized that to me it summed up in a tidy way, the idea that we are walking creators. We are all artists in our own right.
I won’t linger on whatever inspirations, I have drawn from these lyrics over the years. Though there are many, the important one right now is that we are a species of creators. We collectively emulate and venerate creation and we have done so, as far back as history can show us. There is no denying our advancements are many. In a period of a century or two, we can completely rework the face of this entire world. We have done just this.
What we can’t seem to do though, at least not “en mass” is recognize and accept what we truly are. As a child, I was taught that I should strive to be “as gentle as a lamb”. I certainly have had moments, where I was as such, but I know I am more like the wild dog than any gentle lamb. Maybe that has something to do with my Celtic heritage or maybe it is simply because I don’t deny what I am. Deep down though, I know I thirst for worthy battles.
Every great civilization I can think of was born from, and sustained by conquer and conquest. They all seem to fall by the promise of peace. This includes our current age. It seems to me, that when we run out of an outward enemy; we turn toward our inward enemies. A literal and symbolic cannibalism. In the same way that a mother animal would kill off and consume, her offspring should she sense a defect or disadvantage. An act meant to ensure the longevity of her bloodline.
We live in a society where this same behavior is frowned upon and scorned. A world where children are given awards simply for participation. Where rather than force them to rise above whatever disadvantages they may have; we shield and shelter them and call it protection. Yet we do them no great service with this. We teach them weakness and entitlement. Instead of learning to take a punch, we teach them to tattle-tale on the puncher.
You might be wondering why this concerns me. After all doesn’t everyone have a right to a happy life? No they don’t, and though this disgusts me to the core of my being, this is not the “why” that I wish to convey. You see I am a being of reason and logic. I am also one who seeks to remove any illusions of potentialities no matter how horrifying they maybe.
With astronomers saying there could be as many as 40 billion planets in the universe with conditions similar to our own. Meaning capable of sustaining life on them. The closest of them being a mere 12 light years away. It seems like a simple numbers game to me. What I mean is this; we should be expecting visitors.
When they come, and it really does seem like a matter of when, they aren’t coming in peace. It is too costly to travel such distances simply to say hello. They will be motivated to attain something, and are certainly not to leave empty-handed. You can ask how do I know this? This is a valid question and a hard one to answer. Many years of occult study and that of natural behaviors. I have gleaned the many parallels between things on all levels, and can confidently conclude the truth of the old Hermetic idiom “As above, so below”.
Still if this is too much for you to reconcile; if you find it utterly unbelievable; there is still the truth of our own nature to contend with. Because we are a species of violence and war (evidenced by our own histories), and no matter how much “goodie-two-shoes” bubblegum bullshit we try to blow up our own asses, that truth is stark and glaring. For as much as we emanate creation, we also culminate in destruction. So the pendulum sways.
When is it time for us as a species to stop lying to ourselves? When will we not be constantly looking backward for some hidden “knowledge” to fill the vast hole in our collective soul? When will we stop coddling the weak among us and just let our nature be? These are the questions I seek answers to. Not some cryptic wisdom from a time before the time I exist in.
Let us be like wet clay again. Let us rejoin the Aethyr. There is no better time for us than tomorrow. This should always be in our minds. What we are doing isn’t working. I can’t be the only one who sees this.
This was originally going to be a single post, but after some thought; I think it best if I do it in installments. As there is a great deal I am trying to express, and I need time to reflect within it. Thoughts are welcomed, steel will always sharpen steel.
Just beyond the reach of the fire’s soft light;
Lurking the shadows, whispering to the night;
From a time before time, Baleful and Malefic;
Crimson-black soaked robe reminiscent of Ole Celtic;
Madness seeping in like spores do a carcass;
An offering made of flesh and bone, who knows the purpose;
Only the Great Mother recognizes all thousand faces;
Staring into the Void, the strange geometry of such places;
Numinously unsettling the intensity renders one nauseous;
Peeling the skin , twisted grin, ecstasy rises and crashes;
In the pale lunar glow, a new horror is composed;
Blissfully unassuming masses, until the plot unfolds;
In the wake of Myatt’s Vindex, galactic order is imposed;
A return to the folk path, reanimated specter O’ long ago;
In the Times of Culling, glaring notions of suchness had much reveal;
Our kind rises above, because we bathe in fire and steel;
The Black Man shares the message, Awaken the A:O;
The Dark God’s are presenced within the Chaos that is sown;
And to the New Aeon, be more honest than the last;
Let mankind’s wyrdful purpose reach out into the vast;
Alchemical altered physis, a path that’s sevenfold;
Insidious is the slyman, a sinister dialect of that unknown;
So bring on the Crawling Chaos, raise those megaliths;
Outside the Nameless City, the darkness is our gift.
-T.C. Downey 06/06/2021