Thoughts of a Luciferian Occultist on the Occasion of His 36th Birthday

My life has been divided into four nine-year blocks that correspond to the four masculine elements of clay, iron, silver and gold. This has culminated in my own apotheosis as someone who no longer fears the death of the physical body. Such thoughts became apparent to me when I marked the occasion of having been around the Sun thirty-six times, and reflected upon the wobbly path that was taken.

The phase of clay, representing the first nine years, was when simple survival skills were learned. This phase is shared by all creatures that need to survive, right down to the dumbest herbivore. This is the phase that we are born into, one that is characterised by fear as we learn to balance our innate curiosity with staying away from dangers.

In the first nine years of my life I was little different to a sheep or chicken. Essentially all actions I took were reactions. Usually I was guided along by well-meaning adults, and usually I had no reason to not comply. In this phase a basic civilising process took place, and I learned to enjoy life.

The alchemical culmination of this phase is tin, which corresponds to the planet Jupiter. Like Jupiter, it is large, larger-than-life in some ways. It’s bombastic and narcissistic but it is grounded in a healthy affirmation of life and therefore is necessary before the next phase can begin.

The iron phase began when I learned to take competitive sport seriously. Here the enjoyment of life becomes strong enough that a desire to challenge oneself and others arises. This happened at about the same time as puberty began, and with that came a desire to kill other males.

This is the phase when it becomes useful for a child to learn a martial art, or when it becomes enjoyable to seriously develop a set of skills for a competitive sport. Fittingly for iron, during this phase I became a harder individual, but in becoming so I also became a more useful one, in the same way that tools of iron are much more useful than tools of clay.

Its apogee was an incident on a rugby field where I hit an opposing ball carrier so hard in a tackle that I broke my own collarbone on impact and was knocked to the ground. He and I had developed a grudge over the course of the game, hitting each other harder and harder in tackles to try to show off who was strongest. I was about 15kg lighter than him and resorted to a shouldercharge to make up for it.

Unfortunately, he saw he coming and put the shoulder in himself, and I came off second-best (in an odd coincidence, that player, Simon P. Murphy, went on to become the author of His Master’s Wretched Organ, published by this company!).

The incident taught me to appreciate the limits of the sphere of iron. It was effectively where I learned the limitations of aggression and violence, and that knowing how to guide aggression intelligently was much more important than sheer volume of aggression.

It represented a softening to something of greater value, and this was represented alchemically by the phase of silver. This was also where I learned the value of intelligence. On the rugby field it didn’t seem like intelligence was worth much, as it appeared to me mostly about strength. But knowing how to direct one’s strength, not strength itself, was the real ability of value.

This phase began around age 18 and involved going to university. At university it is expected that one has gotten over the testosterone-fueled dominance battling of the phase of iron and therefore that one can work on polishing oneself up.

For me, embarking on the path of silver began with a Bachelor’s degree in psychology, and with losing my virginity to a Swedish nursing student. Upon managing both of these things I developed an appreciation for what intelligence had to offer the world.

I learned to use my own intelligence to go travelling and work around the world, spending three years in Europe and a year in other foreign climes. During this time I learned a few languages, and upgraded my education to a Master’s degree, and by the end of this nine-year block I was capable of thinking logically and rationally.

Being able to think intelligently is an ability that dazzles those still on the level of iron or clay, and as such it corresponds to the reflective ability of sunlight off a mirror. But intelligence itself is not, by itself, necessarily an expression of the will of God.

The silver became, in itself, more alive, and this moved me into the realm of mercury. This was represented in the material world by doing a lot of bar work. Here I learned to become silver-tongued, and to crack jokes, and to parry insults into harmless banter, and to be glib and slick and easygoing.

Seven grams of psilocybin mushrooms, taken shortly after I turned 27, marked the end of this phase of silver and mercury. These I had been given by a hippie workmate upon expressing to him what I felt to be the mental health benefits of smoking cannabis, especially for someone like me who had long suffered problems from nausea and insomnia.

I recall, at the peak of the trip, standing before God and being asked how much I thought I could handle, and replying that I wanted the full measure. In that moment I became entirely reunited with God and understood that I was forgiven for all errors, past and future.

This experience obliterated my mind, and taught me that everything I knew was wrong. I had been granted a glimpse into the face of the divine, but because of my ego and attachment to false self I was not immediately able to manifest the knowledge that I had been granted in my everyday life.

I had two options: to abandon the shamanic path and dismiss the insights gleaned from psychedelics as delusions and insanities, or to accept the challenge of the phase of gold.

I accepted the challenge of the phase of gold, and this involved a willful refusal to allow myself to forget the insights that I had been granted at the peak of the mushroom trips, such as an insight into the true nature of consciousness, or the fact that the contents of consciousness could be represented as a Great Fractal.

The culmination of this phase was writing a manuscript called The Pyrrhonist, an exercise in questioning reality from first principles. This caused the complete disintegration of my entire personality and of everything I believed to be real. I systematically questioned every belief I had, even the most fundamental, and by the end of that process I had questioned the fundamentals of reality so thoroughly that I was mad.

At the nadir of this phase I spent ten days in a mental health unit.

This dark night of the soul served as an nitric acid, dissolving all of the less pure elements of my soul; I was completely humbled. I was forced to stand before the judgment of God and concede that the maintenance and preservation of my ego was a fool’s errand – not only did I make myself less happy, but everyone who encountered me got less out of it than they otherwise would have done.

At this point I had been completely broken, and was ready to rebuild.

This took another three years or so, and involved a kind of self-nurture that, ironically, I had been too selfish to previously allow myself, lest the softness made me weak. It also involved smoking a tremendous amount of cannabis, for the reason that this medicine prevented the pull of the body from dragging my frequency back down to clay because of pain and nausea.

I had to learn to accept that I was not and could never be judged by ephemeral concerns. I embarked on an attempt to purify my soul, which involved abstinence from all of tobacco, alcohol and women.

This last of the four nine-year blocks of my life ended this week, upon turning 36. It ended with my acceptance of the fact that I feel entirely at peace and that there is nothing, fundamentally to fear. I am absolved of all sin and can take my part in the play.

This, I feel, is the lesson of the element of gold. It cannot shine directly on people, in the manner of silver, because where people become blinded and dazzled by silver they become humbled by gold, and in being humbled they become resentful, and in becoming resentful they become destructive.

Gold, being the softest of all metals, can least tolerate that destructive will, and so it has to learn to be subtle. Its essence is therefore gentleness and precision. Working on the level of gold means learning to influence on the level of spirit, not just the level of mind (as is silver).

I feel that now, at age 36, a certain alchemical process has come to its end and that now I can live on whatever level of clay, iron, silver or gold is necessary for the environment that I am in, now that I know how to tune into the appropriate frequency.

The Four Feminine and the Four Masculine Elements

Most readers are familiar with the concept of there being four classical elements, and that those classical elements are fire, air, water and earth. Those four elements do indeed form a complete quadripartite system, but this system is itself a feminine perspective on the ideal of a quadripartite system. This essay looks at its masculine counterpart as well.

The difference is that both sets of four flow from only one of from what can be described as The Fundamental Masculine Orientation and The Fundamental Feminine Orientation. Fundamentally, a masculine orientation will see the world in terms of differences, and a feminine orientation will see the world in terms of similarities.

This is because the masculine tends to measure itself against other men in a hierarchy, and to struggle to become greater than other men, whereas the feminine tends to smooth differences over for the sake of group solidarity, and in doing so implicitly asserts that no-one is any greater than anyone else.

The four feminine elements are known as the four classical elements of fire, air, water and earth. These are feminine elements because they all have equal value – the world and life could not exist without any of the four.

They are also known as feminine elements because they directly correspond to the natural, physical world, which is feminine in contrast to the masculine world of ideals. The earth refers to the clay underneath us, the water refers to the rain, the oceans and the rivers, the air refers to that which we breathe and move around in and the fire refers to the light of the Sun and the stars.

More precisely, it can be said, as Aristotle did, that fire represents that which is hot and dry, air that which is hot and wet, water that which is cold and wet and earth that which is cold and dry.

The four masculine elements have been known for as long as the four feminine elements – but this fact is not understood by all. They are even more esoteric and secret than the four feminine elements because they refer to the spiritual world that modern people have become blind to, whereas the feminine elements refer to the material.

They can be described as clay, iron, silver and gold. These are masculine elements because they refer to an explicit hierarchy in which the latter three elements are the result of a refinement process performed on the element previous.

Firstly, one has a state of clay. This could be considered analogous to the natural proportions of fire, air, water and earth in the material world, i.e. those that were present without any conscious effort to refine them.

What naturally happens after then is a hardening of some part of the clay, into iron. In the natural world this has taken the form of the development of bones, muscles, horns, spikes and fangs. These developments were a masculinisation in that they made the extant chaotic and potential-rich element of clay into something of defined shape and application, like a tool.

The correct balance of clay and iron represents a further refinement of the natural world, this time into silver. This has a greater value than both iron and clay because of its optimal balance of both. Silver is harder than clay but softer than iron, and because of this more intelligent utility it shines with higher value.

The highest refinement is that of gold, which is the correct balance of clay, iron and silver. This is considerably more complicated than just balancing masculine and feminine, and as a result gold is the rarest of all of the masculine elements.

Note that the four masculine elements are abstractions, and as such they do not directly correspond to anything in the material world. Thus, what counts as gold and silver is often a matter of opinion (value, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder).

Thus we can see that the four masculine elements relate to a kind of alchemy, in that they describe in metaphor a willful attempt to raise one’s level of consciousness (where clay = completely unrefined, iron = partially refined, silver = mostly refined and gold = completely refined) whereas the four feminine elements relate to materialist science in that they are a description of the natural world (for example, fire = plasma, air = gas, water = water and earth = solid).

Essentially, the masculine is concerned with up and down, and the feminine is concerned with in and out. This is the ultimate difference between the two fundamental orientations.

Are We Living In The Kali Yuga?

In the degenerate Kali Yuga, the bull of Dharma stands on only one leg, representing the loss of the other pillars of morality

In Hinduism, the Kali Yuga refers to a final age of strife and discord that the world falls into before righteous order is finally restored and humanity realigns itself with the will of God. According to the Sanskrit scriptures, humanity is doomed to repeatedly pass through cycles of time that end in this degenerate Kali Yuga. This essay asks – are we living in the Kali Yuga now?

The Hindu theory of the Yugas has an astonishing similarity with the theory of political decline described in Plato’s Republic. This is possibly because of a shared intellectual tradition that informed all of the civilised nations of antiquity.

The basic idea is that humanity starts off in a Golden Age, or Age of Truth. This is called the Satya Yuga in Hinduism, and corresponds to the rule of the Men of Gold in the Republic. In this stage, humanity is governed by the gods, and our actions allow morality to shine through and illuminate the world. Plato considered it to be an age where humans were ruled by philosopher-kings, who were able to guide humanity skillfully and steadfastly through their challenges.

Unfortunately, this golden age is too good to last and humanity eventually degenerates into the second age, called the Treta Yuga. In this age, people begin to lose touch with their spirituality and become more materialistic. As a consequence, morality starts to degenerate, and fear creeps in. This age corresponds roughly to the oligarchy described by Plato and references the rule of the Men of Silver.

This degeneration continues even further into the Dvapara Yuga, the third age. In this era, the divine intellect no longer manifests, and as a result people become pleasure-seeking and ignorant. Because of this, people no longer are truthful. They will tell lies about anything in order to gain advantage, and this leads to an age of disease and misery. This corresponds to the democracy in Plato’s Republic, in which people only care about short-term pleasure.

Eventually, all of this degeneration causes the entire system to fall apart, in the fourth age, the Kali Yuga. This is an age of war, discord, strife and misery.

The Hindu texts prophecise the rejection of spirituality that takes place during this age. This is perhaps the most definite sign that we are currently living in the age of Kali Yuga.

During this age, it is written, rulers will no longer consider it their duty to promote spirituality, Indeed, this is precisely what we are currently faced with. The rulers of the West make no effort at all to promote genuine spirituality – they are satisfied with merely paying lip service to some rotten Abrahamic tradition that has lost any connection it had to God millennia ago.

In fact, the rulers of our age have gone out of their way to attack spirituality at its source. Where Hindu religions drew spiritual inspiration from entheogenics such as cannabis and psilocybin mushrooms, our age is so grossly materialistic that we have made use of these sacraments illegal, and will go as far as putting each other in cages for using them.

Neither do we meditate. Where meditation was once seen as an essential practice for anyone who so much as hoped to distinguish reality from illusion, nowadays the practice is mocked as something that only brain-dead hippie space cadets would engage in.

It is also written that human relationships will degenerate during this period, and just by simple observation it’s possible to see that this has happened. Avarice and wrath are common, and people don’t see anything wrong with mindless lusts towards sex and murder. Essentially, we have strayed so far from spiritual truth that we have become something close to animals.

At the end of this age, it becomes impossible to even speak of God. It can be argued that we are already at this stage, because it can easily be observed that no-one does speak of God. Churches are full of empty rhetoric drumming up hate against non-believers, the newspapers and television only exist to sell advertising for material goods, and spiritual sacraments have been replaced with alcohol and methamphetamine.

It can be observed that people who do speak of God are roundly mocked, and if this does not deter them they are diagnosed with a mental illness and medicated.

Eventually, the Kali Yuga is supposed to end with a fiery cataclysm that heralds the dawn of a new Golden Age. With the aggressive nuclear program of North Korea attracting ever more aggression from Donald Trump’s America, the likelihood of this cataclysm draws ever nearer. Perhaps the Kali Yuga is soon to end, and perhaps the human race is about to return to God.

Freethinkers! It’s Time to Pull Back to the Secret Societies Again…

Every honest person in the Western World is right now suffering from a profound sense of unease. With another Cultural Revolution sweeping the West, it seems like the barbarian hordes are about to win their ultimate victory of destroying all order in the world. Fret not! There is historical precedent to guide us out of this turmoil – but it’s not going to be easy.

This profound sense of unease is easy to explain. Our cultural and political elites – rotten with corruption, bloated by the easiest life of any generation in history and blinded by ideology – have simply lost control. There is no longer a coherent shared sentiment that holds us together, and, without this, we have lost all solidarity.

In order to be a people, and not just a mess of randoms, we have to have solidarity. In order to have solidarity, a people needs to have a common ground.

The fashionable attitude of our time is the Orwellian “Diversity is Solidarity.” The contradiction here is obvious – the more diversity there is, the less we have in common with each other, and therefore the more diversity there is the less solidarity.

The rot has started at the top. We have an utterly corrupt political class. They inherited the highest standard of living in history after World War II and, bereft of historical awareness, have come to think it natural, and are interested in nothing beyond maintaining this comfortable lifestyle into senescence.

What happens to the generations that come after them is of no concern – as long as there are workers to sweep their streets and to wipe their arses, the Baby Boomers are happy enough. Because there naturally aren’t enough low-paid workers to maintain this lifestyle, the Boomers have chosen to simply import them, and have left us with the impossible task of maintaining a coherent culture in this maelstrom.

In recent centuries, anyone wishing to educate themselves into the nature of reality was able to do so at a university. The word ‘university’ means community, in the sense of a community of teachers and scholars. The idea is that, as a result of the collective effort of intelligent, honest truth-seekers, the true nature of reality will become apparent to the seeker.

This was true up until fairly recently. The New Zealand university system was able to produce a Rutherford a little more than a century ago.

Over the past twenty years, however, the university system has fallen into decline, and is no longer fit for purpose. Instead of honest, unconditioned freethinkers, the Western university system has become a production line of sheep-like drones, conditioned to be terrified of original thought by the ever-present threat of merciless social disapproval.

So, instead of being a community where seekers of wisdom can come together and share knowledge about the nature of reality, debating it and refining it, most of the products of this system are just pure cancer. University graduates are now more interested in virtue signalling than in the truth; indeed, the entire concept of ‘truth’ has been destroyed in the confusion wrought by postmodernism.

There’s only one solution, and history tells us what it is. In an age where the rights to free speech and free association have been lost (to both direct and indirect attacks), it’s necessary to once again meet in secret. Behind closed doors. Entry only by an invitation that is jealously withheld until proof that one is made of the right stuff has been given.

In other words, it’s necessary to fall back to the network of secret societies inspired by the Mystery Schools of ancient Egypt and Greece. The public ground has been lost to the barbarians – it’s time this was admitted by men of truth and the appropriate measures taken.

Indeed, this was where the original university system originated from – this is why people are not awarded Master’s Degrees but are rather “Admitted to the Degree of Master.”

This company has already begun work to source a kykeon capable of inspiring the spiritual insight that formed the basis of the Eleusinian Mysteries. At some point in the near future we will reinstate these mysteries in Sun City, New Zealand.

The Great Fractal

In the beginning was consciousness. This is the same as God, and it is the same as yourself. God is consciousness, and God is you, and you are consciousness. This didn’t really happen in the beginning, because there’s no such thing as time, but it’s the start of the story.

All religions and spiritual movements are inspired by gnosis about the real nature of God. It’s very simple – God is consciousness because consciousness is sufficient to create the entire physical world (and all possible worlds), and consciousness is outside of time and space and is complete even in division.

Nothing over and above consciousness is necessary to create the appearance of the entire material world and everything in it, and the appearance of every possible material world and everything in that. In fact, all of these possible material worlds can be derived through repeated iteration of a simple fractal equation – the Great Fractal.

So when people say that God is omniscient and omnipotent and everywhere and eternal they are entirely correct, because all of these things are true of consciousness.

The only disagreement arises when people try to describe the precise nature of God. These efforts are doomed to failure because consciousness is more fundamental than language, and therefore cannot be defined in language. And so all efforts to describe God or to interpret the will of God are errors, usually made through a person conflating their ego with God and therefore confusing their personal desires for the will of God.

That’s all there is to life. You, being conscious, are conscious of things. This never changes, not even on the other side of the death of your material body.

The Great Fractal is the sum total of all of the possible phenomena that God can be conscious of. It is called the Great Fractal because all possible lives are similar to all other possible lives in ways that, if represented graphically, form a fractal of infinite complexity and depth.

Every possible life is being lived by God, right now, with full consciousness – and always has been and always will be. There is a being exactly the same as you who is right now living the life you lived up until ten minutes ago – and there are an infinite number of lives being lived inbetween now and ten minutes ago.

The Great Fractal is alive. It is bursting with consciousness. Every possible life that God can imagine – from the simplest flatworm to seventh-dimensional wizards, is consciously being lived right now, and always will be, forever.

How? God just dreamed them up, and God continues to dream as an act of will. That’s all that this – what we call life – is: just a dream. You know this because it’s not any more real than the dreamworlds that you experience at night. Nothing is different at such a time – you are consciousness, and you are conscious of phenomena, and that’s all there is to it, awake or asleep.

What you consider to be your life is just one infinitely small and infinitely limited perspective of the Great Fractal, at the human-on-Earth-in-the-21st-century level. Just like a computer program that can give you the impression of an entire journey merely through zooming in on particular co-ordinates of a fractal, so is your life just a pathway through the Great Fractal and what you see along the way.

You do have free will, only you are limited by certain laws whose purpose is to make this illusion more immersive. What you consider to be free will is nothing more than navigating through the Great Fractal to the degree that you are able – you decide on a part of the Great Fractal that you would like to experience and then – if it’s possible to get there from where you are now while obeying the laws of immersion – you go there.

Why did this happen, instead of something else happening?

Being pure consciousness, God is perfection. God resides in a state of perfect bliss, complete and without desire.

Although this is perfect on one level, it’s grossly imperfect on another: it’s not very interesting.

Simply put, the most enjoyable game that God can play is to look into a limited section of the Great Fractal for long enough so that God can actually come to convince itself that this limited section is really the whole thing – and then God can feel a sense of awe and grandeur by once again awakening to an appreciation of the whole, an appreciation of itself, an awakening from the delusion that God was ever something else.

And then to do it again, and again and again, forever – an unceasing pattern of forgetting and remembering, of mistaking the illusion of the material world for transcendental reality and then realising the trick and laughing about the fact that one could ever fall for something so obvious.

What we call enlightenment is what naturally arrives as a consequence of turning the common, understandable, materialist perspective around; from looking backwards at the uncreated consciousness instead of looking forwards into the created Great Fractal.

The Great Fractal is the sum total of all the contents of consciousness and all the possible contents of consciousness. It is what the ancient Vedic culture called Maya. We mistake it for reality to the extent that we are making a game of this life.

If Materialism Is False, Death Is Nothing To Fear

Materialism is such a dominant perspective in today’s culture that we’ve almost forgotten that it is a perspective. The near-universal assumption is that consensual reality is a mindless collection of atoms and molecules, and of temperature and energy, and that the brain generates consciousness. This essay is a reminder that this perspective is just a perspective, and not necessarily the truth.

Thinking logically, it soon becomes apparent that there’s nothing especially rational about adopting the perspective of materialism, although doing so may be temporarily useful for anyone trying to run a scientific experiment.

From an existential perspective, the only thing you know for sure is that you’re conscious. That’s it. Existence precedes essence – this is another way of saying that consciousness precedes the contents of consciousness.

At this point, most people will protest that they are also aware of the material world. This conclusion follows naturally from the assumption that the brain generates consciousness, because once a person has made this assumption it seems natural to think that the brain has developed to become aware of the material world.

But no-one knows for sure that what they are aware of is a material world. A person might be conscious of a perspective that relates to some mental attempt to make sense of the stimuli that they have received from what appears to be a material world, but this is in no way evidence that such a material world exists – the map is not the territory.

Some might argue here that the sensory impressions that impact upon our consciousness are, nonetheless, impressions from the material world, and that we know that our sensory organs have made accurate impressions of this material world because of our successful adaptation to it.

But the worlds that we encounter in our dreams, which can be as real and as detailed as this material world, are evidently not creating impressions on our eyes, because those are closed and we are asleep. From this we can deduce that eyes are not necessary to create an illusion of a material world realistic enough for a consciousness to want to survive in it.

And from this it follows that a material world is itself entirely unnecessary, because consciousness could simply dream one up in its absence and would be unable to tell the difference.

At this point a materialist might continue to object, claiming that although the dreamworld that the dreamer experiences is evidently non-material (despite being equally as real from an existential perspective), the appearance of it is nonetheless created by the brain, wherein it resides.

But at this point the materialist has allowed themselves to become a magical thinker. The belief that consciousness resides in the brain does not follow from any logical process.

Usually the materialist will continue to profess that science will one day prove what the “origin” of consciousness is, and that when it does so this origin will doubtlessly be material, but this line of reasoning is just the mirror opposite of what materialists deride as “the god of the gaps”.

In other words, it’s magical thinking, not rational thinking.

Talking to a materialist about the idea that consciousness itself has generated the contents of consciousness (i.e. it has dreamed up the material world as a particularly convincing delusion) is like talking to a medieval theologian about the idea that man has generated the idea of the Christian god – their basic existential assumptions about reality make a conversation about it essentially impossible.

If one refuses to make the assumption that the brain generates consciousness, then there is no reason to believe that the death of the physical body and brain should affect the experience of being conscious. Therefore, it follows that, if the existence of consciousness is not predicated on temporal phenomena, consciousness must be eternal.

And if consciousness is eternal, then all the contents of consciousness are just forms – things that come and go. And your body, being nothing more than some of the contents of your consciousness, is one of those things that comes and goes – but it isn’t you.

Therefore, there is no significant difference between the death of the physical body and any other major change in the contents of consciousness. The death of the physical body might portend a great change in the contents of consciousness, but there is no logical reason to think that this necessitates a change in consciousness itself.

The Dualistic Perspective, Positive Thinking and the Lower Self

There is a tendency in society for people to praise so-called ‘positive thinking’, because it is believed to oppose negativity and negative thoughts. How do you oppose negativity? Opposition is not the same as allowing, and allowing is not the same as capitulating.

Fighting negativity is the equivalent of war on terrorism. You cannot cease aggravation with aggravation, and you cannot wrangle the world into a peaceful situation by insisting that your perspectives have raised you above it all. From the perspective of duality, you are always inextricably complicit in the world’s dysfunction.

While it may be true that the subject of your thoughts involves ‘nice’ things, say, generosity, or hope, or love, the upshot is that you are still dreaming the dream of duality. Reality is already here, and does not correspond to the thoughts and judgments we make about it.

Much of the motivation behind positive thinking, as with any other branch of dualistic thinking, is that it is crafted to oppose or ward off other kinds of thoughts or events, like a talisman. What appears to be loving and peaceful turns out to be an elaborate exercise in nonacceptance. Dualistic ways of thinking oppose accepting the way things appear at this moment at the cost of peace. Duality always has an agenda to push, whether it is destructive and wishes to make things ‘worse’, or constructive and wishes to make things ‘better’.

Things don’t ultimately get better in a dualistic world. This is the ‘bad news’ if you are intent on staying within that limited paradigm (in reality, this is neither ‘bad’, nor is it ‘new’). It means that all of your efforts to screen and filter incoming experience for both yourself and others will be doomed to failure.

This is not fatalistic, because this too is merely a perspective. This is a natural consequence of your insistence on seeing reality divided into fictional categories, including ‘good’ and ‘bad’, ‘right’ and ‘wrong’, ‘holy’ and ‘unholy’, ‘beautiful’ and ‘ugly’, and most other polarized words you will come across in any dictionary. Things don’t get better in a world where you have designated the rules as dualistic and therefore inherently unstable and combatative.

From the viewpoint of unity, there is peace and deep acceptance of whatever comes to pass, because it is acknowledged deeply that everything is unified. This could be called many things, but essentially it means not minding what happens. This is not the same as apathy, or fatalism.

Apathy could be defined as not caring what happens because the world is seen as unsatisfactory, irrespective of what it should happen to contain. This is clearly an expression of duality.

Fatalism has two distinct philosophical meanings, the first is the belief that everything that happens is fated to happen. This may or not be true, and does not fall within the relevance of the present moment. How could anyone know this? What difference would it make to reality for you to believe it?

The second meaning is that of an extreme form of pessimism. This again is duality. Perspectives always see the world through a lens, which means they always imply an agenda – shoulds, should nots and endless efforts at negotiating with what is.

Reality has no agenda, it simply appears unfolding in the moment. Any notion of there needing to be something different to how it presently is occurs only within our cranial vaults. The view from beyond duality reveals the entire cosmos to be marvellous perfection. This can only happen when the false tyranny of the fragmentary mind has been deposed. When the conditioned structures which cloud your vision and prevent you from seeing clearly are removed or at least become transparent, you will see for yourself the breadth and perfection of the Divine.

People who despise the world, having mistaken part of the world for the whole and identifying suffering as essential to existence, are often some of the most vociferous. If you really don’t care, why is it that you care to have your opinions expressed to as many people as possible? Is it a sign of strength to want for others to know your opinion of not caring? What is the nature of the fleeting sense of satisfaction this expression offers you? Do you achieve a specialness from feeling more separate, do you feel adulated as a victim?

All cultures and subcultures, like all individuals, claim specialness, either overtly or implicitly.

It is ironic that there are even subcultures which claim their specialness by being indifferent to wider societal values. They are never so indifferent as to cease insisting that the society they wish to be seen opposing recognises them, even if only to push them away.

Even the most anarchistic and refractory of these subcultures insist on showing their open contempt for the rest of society and their rejection of its values and interests.

It is not enough for them to quietly keep their thoughts, beliefs and values to themselves. Like most egoic entities, they want you to either agree with them, or react against them. If they were truly indifferent and special in the way they would have us believe, why do they do they continue to insist that their differences be recognised by those whom they claim to be possessed of less wisdom?

Again, because all social divisions claiming special status or exclusion are ego based, it is that they want to be recognised as being different (and therefore special) by everyone else. Otherwise, ego would have no audience, and that is not a game that interests an entity whose only conception of being is based on perception of popular opinion – reflected image.

Within both society and individuals there is a strongly ingrained egoic yearning to appear special and to ‘stand out’. Advertising is built upon exploiting this self-induced fiction. The way that egos attempt to establish specialness and distinction is limitless, but they all derive from the same source, the same fictitious drive to appear in order to appropriate being or ‘realness’.

The compulsion to identify with unpopular or unconventional things is not indicative of freedom/authenticity or having somehow transcended the cycle of suffering, rather it is confirmation of the mind/ego’s insistence upon rating everything according to popularity and convention, even when expressed in ‘negative’ terms.

People are particularly aggrieved when something which they like which is relatively unpopular suddenly catches on as a craze. This is why there are bumper stickers and t-shirts which say “I liked (x) before it was popular”. Why should this happen? What is the relevance of this personal investment?

Liking something which is relatively unpopular confers a certain exclusivity. When this thing, whether it is a food, band, or a person, becomes widely appreciated, i.e. ‘popular’, then your claim to exclusivity is forfeit – a piece of life which you thought made you special is now lost, and there is a resulting pain.

This has curious effects. One might be that the thing which was previously identified with is rejected, and your attitude undergoes complete reversal in reaction to popularity – you become a ‘hater’. Otherwise, you might continue to enjoy it, but not feel the capacity to let go of your story about how at one point in your life you had the wisdom and refinement of taste to appreciate (x) before it gained popularity, hence the perceived need for the t-shirts and bumper stickers which congratulate your good taste.

There are people who reject popular films solely by virtue of their popularity alone and insist on praising the merits of less-popular films. This is where the terms ‘overrated’ and ‘underrated’ become especially relevant. You can be in chains by playing the role of the conformist, but you can be equally chained by playing the role of the dissident.

The lower self will happily work either way. One ego might see strength in crowds, popularity, and herd mentality, as in the case of most religions and global fads.

Another might reject the popular on the grounds that they would not be highlighted as sufficiently special, and adopt unconventional beliefs, dress, tastes, lifestyle in order to stand out. They see their implicit rejection of society as a show of force and a testament to their strength.

Ego will work with anything it has available in order to appear stronger. Going with the flow of society appears to have strength and momentum, and opposing it creates ripples. Either way, ego seeks confirmation of its relevance and specialness.

Awareness itself has no dog in the fight. It does not even register the conflict, since it does not arise from inherent duality as the lower self does. Mind is dualistic and therefore highly selective about the kinds of experience it would like to have and those it would rather avoid. It separates possible experience into categories and forms strategies for manipulating life in what it perceives to be its favour.

Awareness just watches. It does not discriminate between fictitious categories of experience or quality. It exists in radiant openness to this moment.

The more energy and ‘time’ that is invested in a life replete with mind, the more plans your mind will make for you, which means fabricated problems, disappointments, thrills and complications.

The more energy is withdrawn from mind and back into the source of that power, which is pre-reflective awareness, the more you live a life that is peaceful, ordinary, and free from the desperate need to stand out or ‘make it’. Identity is free to rest as itself in vibrant awareness.

From a higher perspective, none of this is ‘good’ or ‘bad’. It is just where you happen to be at this point in life. Not everyone’s relationship with this moment is dysfunctional, but most are. Some of the effects of this are stress, dissatisfaction, yearning for specialness and recognition, anxiety, depression and a persistent sense of disconnection from life as well as other people.

It isn’t surprising that people gravitate towards consciousness when their suffering increases. Some people feel that they are pleasurably lost in the complexities of life – that’s fine. That’s part of the game too, only sooner or later everyone will be reminded that all experiences are temporary.

*

Simon P. Murphy is the author of His Master’s Wretched Organ, a collection of short horror stories that deal with questions of transcendence, terror and spiritual absolution.

Te Reo With Mnemonics: Food Words

to bite – ngau(-a)

A man pulls up a pile of food from a hangi, and starts to gnaw on a meaty bone.

to eat – kai(-nga)

A man dressed as a king sits down in front of a hangi and starts eating the food there.

to chew – ngaungau(-a)

Watching through a pair of binoculars, a policeman sees a teenage girl put a piece of gum in her mouth and start chewing. The policeman picks up his radio and shouts “Now! Now!” as if orchestrating a hostage rescue.

bitter – pūkawa

A cow takes a bite of a flower and its facial expression shows intense bitterness; then it defecates. The bitter taste caused a poo cow.

sweet – reka

On a pile of junked cars and vans at a wrecker‘s yard, a young boy sits and eats sweets, ice-creams and chocolates.

to feed – kainga

Two boys are playing checkers. One moves a piece to the far side and says “King me!” His opponent picks up the board and feeds it to him.

The word ‘tower’ and the Maori word for flavour, tāwara, share a t-w-r- sound

Flavour – tāwara

A teenage boy walks up to a teetering tower made of salami. He takes a bite out of it, and then says “This tower is tower-flavoured.”

Food – kai

A woman walks into a grocery store to buy some food. Instead of regular food, the shelves are full of keys of all descriptions.

fresh – mata

A matador walks up to a table full of food. Under his breath, he mutters “Fresh? Is this food fresh? Fresh enough?”

hunger/hungry – hiakai

Hercules sit does in front of a meal with a rumbling stomach. He tucks into the food in a way that shows a striking level of hunger.

taste – rongo

A man watches as a woman takes a bite out of an apple. She says “It tastes like banana.” “Wrong!” the man replies.

thirst/thirsty – hiainu

Through the bars of a prison cell, a prisoner says to a guard “I’m dying of thirst in here.” The guard replies “A fitting punishment for your heinous crimes.”

*

The above is an excerpt from the upcoming ‘Learn Maori Vocabulary With Mnemonics‘, a book by Jeff Ngatai.

Trip Report: 100mg Methoxetamine

2100: I take a gelcap with 50mg methoxetamine. I am at home with only my mother and two cats for company. I have just had an excellent week on holiday with some good friends and so my mindset is optimal.

+0.30: I take a second gelcap with 50mg methoxetamine. This makes it a total of 100mg, which is a very heavy dose. The reader ought to note that I weigh 115kg, and so the vast majority of people would not need as strong a dose as 100mg to have a similar experience.

+1.00: It’s starting to come on for real. I turn my head to the side and it seems to take a while for my perception to catch up.

It’s not like how it usually is, where the turn of the head seems to take place at the same time as the change in focus. Somehow there is a sense of viewing everything though a camera.

It’s as if there is some kind of perceptual space in between the sensory action that is detecting the physical world and my consciousness that observes it.

As if my eyes have been removed and replaced with cameras, and these cameras feed input directly to my consciousness somehow.

+1.30: I’m enjoying watching myself do things. There is a strong sense of comedy, as my body appears to be doing things without an exercise of will on my part.

For example, I just went out of my house to go up the stairs to another house, and it’s more like watching an extremely boring movie (although the novelty of one’s life being observed second-hand like a movie makes it interesting).

I realise that I am in a state of dissociation, and there is a mild sense of alarm at the possibility that I might do something without being in control of myself, and come to regret it.

This alarm never becomes anything major, as my body fortunately rolls along without doing anything stupid.

+2.45: It’s interesting to pat a cat in this state because of the dissociation. The cat seemed to me as it usually does, except for one distinction.

I was happy for the cat because I knew the person patting it was a good person who meant no harm. Because this person was going to bring happiness to the cat, I was happy for the cat’s sake.

That it was my cat and that it was me patting it didn’t come into the picture, despite that this is the usual course of events.

I knew it was my cat and I knew that the cat being happy made me happy, it’s just that I was unable to comprehend that it was me making the cat happy. It was as if my consciousness just hung in physical space, a short distance from the man I was watching, and followed him around like a will-o-the-wisp.

+3.30: The dissociation has helped me to realise something. That the person I’m observing in this highly dissociated state is actually a decent fellow.

It’s an interesting state because I don’t usually feel this way about myself, a feature of having clinical depression. But the dissociation has allowed me to view myself as if through the eyes of another. It seems natural to assume that this is a more objective state, having been stripped of all the psychic flotsam that otherwise occupies the mind.

I realise that everyone’s opinion of themselves is, to a large extent, conditioned and therefore has been arrived at by involuntary means.

That I appear to be watching myself, and that this self that I am watching is a decent fellow who I don’t need to be afraid of, doesn’t seem particularly strange in this moment.

+4.00: It has occurred to me that methoxetamine is an excellent anti-depressant. I have not taken my anti-depressants for a week before this trip so as to avoid serotonin syndrome (methoxetamine, like my prescribed sertraline, is a serotonin reuptake inhibitor).

I am feeling pretty happy, but not in a high way. Methoxetamine doesn’t appear to be an especially giggly drug like the classical psychedelics.

The sense of joy rather comes from a removal of the cloud of ignorance that I had about myself. It’s as if I dared to peek behind a perceptual curtain and was rewarded by feeling better about myself.

+5.00: The trip is starting to wind down. One pleasant thing about dissociatives is that the comedown tends to return the user to their familiar, everyday state of doing things in a way that is a relief.

This contrasts with the feeling I get on psychedelics, in which the comedown to familiarity often comes with a sense of disappointment, of being stuck here again.

All in all, I’d highly recommend a solid dose of methoxetamine, however I would only do so under certain caveats.

In particular, this drug is probably a terrible choice for going out partying or in public, on account of that the dissociation makes normal human communication a bit of a crapshoot.

On the flipside, it seemed like an excellent choice for hanging out at home and getting to know yourself better. Thus I would suggest that using it more or less like psilocybin should work out okay.

Also, I get the feeling that methoxetamine should probably be avoided if a person has low self-esteem or hates themselves. This is because the dissociative effect might bring this lack of self-regard starkly to the fore.

The Fundamental Masculine and Feminine Moralities

People often talk about one singular, monolithic, ideal morality as is God was sitting up in the heavens waiting for us to figure it out. The belief appears to be that if we ever did figure this out, we would all behave according to it and life on Earth would be harmonious forevermore.

This childish magical thinking is, of course, false. The reality is that there are two very different moralities that represent opposite ends of an ethical spectrum upon which all actions fall.

The fundamental masculine morality is to maintain good order, and the fundamental feminine morality is to allow life to naturally express itself.

Maintaining good order and allowing life to naturally express itself might not sound like contradictions necessarily, but they are still poles on an ethical spectrum.

One can convince oneself of this by realising that all threats to good order arise from the natural expression of life, and that all bad order restricts the natural expression of life. Likewise, all good order allows for the natural expression of life, and all unnatural expressions of life lead to bad order.

This means that it is commonplace for adherents of the masculine morality to want to destroy expressions of life that threaten good order, and it is commonplace for adherents of feminine morality to want to destroy bad order that prevents natural expression of life.

For the most part, it’s entirely possible for these two moralities to work together. But sometimes they don’t.

A man might act according to masculine morality when he tends to his garden. A gardener is not at all interested in allowing life to express itself through the form of weeds. His task is to maintain good order by keeping the weeds out, by keeping the plants in correctly spaced rows, to prevent the soil from becoming too wet or too dry etc.

A woman might act according to feminine morality when she raises a child. When raising a child, women are generally not particularly concerned with the degree of order that child has. What she wants is for the child to express itself through growth, to be healthy and strong, to feel joy at being alive, and this is made more difficult by forcing order on it.

Masculine and feminine moralities therefore come into conflict when a given order is considered good by some and bad by others.

In fact, this is how most conflict starts. A king might consider his kingdom’s operation to demonstrate good order, but there may be forces in the kingdom who disagree, and who consider his rulership to be bad order.

These forces will come into conflict because the natural expression of the sentiments of those who disagree with the king’s rule will conflict with the king’s desire to maintain order, and the king will find himself forced to stamp those sentiments out else risk chaos befalling the kingdom.

In the same way that silver is a compromise between clay and iron and more valuable than either on account of its finer balance, so too does the correct course of action in any given situation appear as a balance between the masculine and feminine moralities.

Morally retarded people are those who are unable to find a balance between the masculine and feminine moral orientations, and so they either try and impose maximum order upon everything (penis-worshippers and control freaks) or maximum chaos upon everything (postmodernists and hyperfeminists).

People who go too far down the masculine track start wanting to maintain order for order’s sake. The concept of good order is forgotten.

Our cannabis laws are an excellent example of an excess of masculine moral sentiment. It’s obvious to everyone that the New Zealand cannabis laws are not fit for purpose and must be changed, but those who wish to maintain order for order’s sake are unable to countenance so much as a conversation about the subject.

People who go too far down the feminine track start wanting to introduce chaos for chaos’s sake. The concept of healthy chaos is forgotten. These people essentially “just want to watch the world burn”.

The refugee policy of Europe over the past two decades is an excellent example of an excess of feminine moral sentiment. The refusal to discriminate between the natives and non-natives, usually for what are claimed to be moral reasons, has led to a collapse in good order as all manner of chancers have flooded in to compete with the natives for resources.

The only way out of our predicament will be to find the correct balance between the masculine desire for order and the feminine desire for free expression.

Metaphysically that means choosing the right combination of clay and iron so that the overall structure can be polished into silver.

In other words, the same as it ever was.