Pagan Pride

THE SELF

During my re-discovery of my old writings I found some pieces of note about me and my being inner and outer and written as they were at such opposite ends of my scale of self awareness I found it intruiging to put them together here. I have fused them together so as to make their origins indistinguishable but one piece was written on the road in America shortly before my great revelations on the plains of South Dakota and the second as I stood on the threshold of a magical initiation several years later. One is a direct reflection of my will to annihilate my personality and one from the view looking back having done so. Although not greatly enlightening to an outsider nonetheless a fascinating exercise to me.


If we sit silently enough

We may hear the unhearable

If we close our eyes tightly enough

We may see the unseeable

If we stand still enough

We may touch the untouchable

And if we dare to search enough

We may love the unlovable

So if we do all of these at once

We may know the unknowable

 

I am the centre of my being here, the very locus of my own cosmos, starlit and glowing, creator and created and I turn in upon myself like a wolf and dare say "I do not like it"! A future me departs at this point.

How may it be changed? What will I do to put it right within me? I have the answer already within me: I do nothing. I let go. I allow to drop the past being that I am not that the being I reach towards may be joined with the nothing I am. From the abyss I do not fall back but step gladly outwards.

I have built me a fortress of black rock, solid walls to repel such enemies as officiousness, overbearing authority and all forces I have permitted dwelling within my universe. Mine has become a world of intruders from which I have cast those I myself drew even there. My universe is of my making and the beings therin of my choosing and all are friends even as I disseminate into all. Those that will leave do so without recrimination, their choice is not mine to make but their right to chose is indeed my gift to bestow and gladly I do it. So do I despise the shckles and bonds that I break them asunder even within me and allow my wrongs to spill out and away. Lo is the wound bled and flow restored! Binding those to me with friendship was a shouldering of such responsibility to my own freedom and even unto theirs, one I will lay down now and never more take up. Freedom manipulated is no freedom even being that the manipulation is for the greater freedom for such is a lie and an imprisonment of spirit. In freeing those around me of responsibility to me and me to them i release my very being from responsibility of conforming to even its own willed path and thus I am all and none in wonder and light and love.

The walls of this fortress I have built are set in foundation upon upon freedom and I am prisoner in my own tower of thorns. Tear down the walls! Rise up oh spirit and drown me forever, dashed against the rocks of my own making that I might dissolve into the great void of my new aeon of being. Revolt at the vigour of my labour, cast down the lonliness of that final tower, the view revolts me! The great spread of self, in barbicans and outer walls spreads across the land in an ugly network of vain veins and shadow only lies upon the grass, no light enters here, cast it out! Bring it down! Destroy it all . . .

Waht is left after the cataclysm? Nothing? Ay, nothing so much! The sun shines upon the horizon once more, light is there, light is there! Beyond me, when I lie as nothing there is all mystery, all knowledge. Adventure lies out there, dreams may be begun and brought to life or buried forever as will decides unfettered.

here as I am born again I am far from that horizon and i am alone, utterly. Consternation is gone for I sought escape when there was none, no aid came to me for I was nothing. What a grand error I lived before! Paradoxed so completely that I was afraid (and how I cried into the darkness in that fear!) and no longer am I shamed by my will to be, to resist the changes in my will. Down now from the tower have I come and tossed aside the keys of my slavery, the keys of my being, i set out from it's ruins in glee for never will the terrors of it be mine again, clod hoorors in dreams alone shall remind me of my former chains, into the world anew I go, planting, sowing, reaping the seeds of my very future, my land is not mine now, I am no more its master or its slave and bright and adventurous it is this morning! Behold I set out for a new moment each moment and all carries me further from that dread prison of self. I am done and lo I am undone also:

Philosopher I am no more making no pretence at understanding that which I understand beyond words. No more hypotheses and statistics to chain me and though scientist I was once I am not so now for no longer do I prize the knowledge over the knowing - begone past, Had! it is done!

The tales fascinated me, and still they do, but no more will I be the teller of them, no reader am I , no bard again for too clearly now are such things insubstantial and unreal, the greatest tales are true and happeneing now, my eyes were open yet I saw not, and now the heroes are true, let not the truth be shrouded in story, Had! It is done!

And magician too, let me be he no longer for such powers were ever mine to wield as one wields a serpent to slay the dragon. The dragon is dead and the shining scales live forever each reflected in the growing sun. I have manipulated my life as the magician, I have worked such great calls, performed such vital acts and in doing so soured my will that it tastes to me of bile, nay I lay down the wand, the sword I cast to the fire, the coin to the needy and the cup to the thirsty for my time is no more, Had! It is done!

A scholar I am no more either, for in my wonder I have forgotten how to read for mere word-hoard is no longer my master and I no more its slave. I have seen too much for words, they are not of me now and from me I cast them to the four winds for all they are is breezes in the heavens. Begone foul intellect for no use have I of thee, Had! It is done!

The will I turn within, no more shall I walk between the outer worlds save as from within. For ever have I sought such paths so distant and remote and now they lie so close I have trod them a thousand times and never known! What fool is this that I see? What man of guile to have been so duped! Death begone, I fear thee not for ever have I embraced thee as a brother. Naught thou art, no kin of mine for i despise thee so absoute that thou have no power upon me save glamour. To part is to grieve is to die is not true, what shadows hid that from me so well? Death and travel begone, Had! It is done!

 

And leaving me now as I am, the babe of all nothing, resting in the void, I am the tune, the notes and yea even the voice that sings it. A part of all I am and nothing too, a part and yet reflection, I am spirit and none such else!

I travel with no faith in time or distance and thus

I have no journey,

I have no destination

And I have no delay!

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