Oneiric Imperium & Dead Girl History, made between Philly and NYC.
Two songs posted for the up coming split with dead girl history.
The first is "The initiation of Baba-Balon into the crystalline macrogeometry of consciousness" and is about an encounter Genny had with Greys. The spoken dialog is Genny and is a true story. On this track are myself, Genny, Adrina and Bryan Babylon. Bryan also has had Grey encounters, and Adrina's Mother is reputed to have an alien implant. Humorously or perhaps appropriately while I was recording Bryan's flute playing for this track I was taking video clips of him and photos. In this photo here one can see a Grey face poking out of the haze. Make of it what you will-
Another song, Silver and Ice, made between philly and long island. It was made by myself, Justin Ordnung, Genny Balon and Nick Carbuto. The song is about the death and ideas of Miguel Serrano.
http://feastofhateandfear.com/archives/serrano2.html
ANOTHER
TURN OF THE WHEEL
THE
INITIATION
I had to wait many
years before I was accepted by the guides who control us from the Ray of Green
Light, and the Master decided to initiate me.
I was summoned to the Circular Room of Glass, which had been built in the south
as a copy of the first home. The warriors were all there, dreS$ed in black and
carrying their swords. I, too, carried mine.
The great Sign of Return, which revolves in the opposite direction to the turning
of this present earth, was suspended from the vaulted roof. A fire burned in
the centre of the room. I drew my sword and passed it to the Master .
'You must stand,' he told me. 'No one kneels in our company.' The others formed
a circle around us. The Master passed my sword over the flames.
'There are two swords. One day you will be the Warrior of the Two Swords, when
you regain the faculty of conversing with the animals and plants, which is the
language of A valon, spoken in the City of the Caesars. You will be the Warrior
of the Two Worlds, the inner and outer. There is only one sword, but it has
two edges, llke a double-headed eagle. It is the Sword of the Two Consciousnesses,
of the awakening.'
The Master drew a sign on the blade of the sword and handed it back to me. The
warriors pointed their swords at my heart. Then they raised them towards the
Emblem of Return.
'The Circle is called Huilkanota. You are now an Ancahuinca, a warrior serving
the White Gods of Albania. Now you can never turn back. Whosoever sets foot
here can never go back. He must go ever onward, across burning deserts and icy
plateaux, suffering thirst, half-frozen, alone, without human comfort, without
the warm embrace of a living woman, usque ad mortem, until one day he
reaches the diamond-encrusted walls of the City of Dawn, its drawbridge, its
hidden entrance. By his constant courage in battle, by his "fury"
alone, he will have gained the right to resurrection and eternal life. But whosoever
sets foot upon this path which leads to the great beyond may not go forward
ifhe ever has the intention of turning back. He who has attained the human state
and doesn't try to go beyond it is like a man who commits suicide.' And the
Master gave me the first sign in our initiation: 'The sign is the language of
Atlantis-Hyperborea. When you trace it over your heart, it affects the two heads
of the double-headed eagle and instantly reaches the Two Earths and all your
bodies, reactivating them. It is your defence and paralyses those who are opposed
to your myth, opposing Nos, like a counter-initiation, an anti-spirit.
Other signs will be given to you, either by me personally or by the guides,
as they become necessary to the glory of your fight, on the dangerous road which
you will be following. May the Norns be propitious to you! May the immortals
give you their blessing! Go, se'ek! And never return. Leap!'
THE
SEARCH ONCE AGAIN
Since that day
I have travelled the world from end to end, searching, consulting, looking deep
into the eyes of every pilgrim I meet to see whether he is one of my comrades,
to receive some sign or indication that would help me find the path that leads
to the gates of the City of Dawn.
At first, I allowed myself to be dragged along by the current that flows ever
farther towards the south. I penetrated its borders, where Pedro Sarmiento de
Gamboa tasted the bitter fruit of return, called Calafate (l). In the Sarmiento
Mountains, by Lake Nahuel Huapi, I searched for the City of the Caesars. And
one day I found myself at a great altitude, near the peak of Melimoyu. Without
knowing why, I burst into tears beside a small lake and a rock which stood on
a plateau, near a forest of petrified conifers. It was with great difficulty
that I came down from there, as if half of m y soul lay dead in that place.
And I continued my search until I reached the icy wastes of the Antarctic, guided
by a golden-haired dog, always with the hope of seeing the oasis which was the
entrance to the Interior World, the Hollow Earth, the refuge of our guides,
appear in the thick mist. And in the expectation of their resurrection.
I don't know what happened to my golden-haired dog, or whether I lost it in
this turn of the wheel or another, whether it fell into a bottomless Antarctic
abyss, or whether it was devoured by the ferocious skuas, those Antarctic seagulls
which flew ever closer to its Golden Fleece.
I have said that I travelled to all the ends of the earth. And thus it was.
I crossed the great Ocean which eats away at our coasts, in the knowledge that
the temples, palaces and golden ghosts of Gondwana and Mu, the decomposing skeletons
of the men of Lemuria, their treasures, their immense submerged powers, their
cosmogonic dreams, still lie in its depths. And one day I reached the Other
Spine of the Earth, the Himalayas, because I thought to find the City of Agharti
and the Masters of my Master there. I lived in India for many years, searching
the holy mountains for the Siddha-Ashram. The Master had to1d me that its entrance
was to be found on the sacred Mount Kailas, in the Transhimalayas, above the
rainline, near Lake Manasarovar. I was on the point of reaching it. But I was
prevented from doing so by the other races who had taken control of those regions
and who were opposed to our myth, forcing Kaliyuga towards its nadir, to the
new kingdom of the ants, to a planet of lead. Only the judgment of the Noms
can save our Myth of Resurrection and Eternal Love. And the sword called 'Blood
Memory'. And the Disc of Green Light and the return of the White Gods.
CARL
GUSTAV JUNG
On my return to
the west, in that European world which is not like the South American one, and
which after the Thirty Years War and the latest war of the Mahabharata
has become like a body without a soul, I discovered that a noble White Spirit
had left Europe for ever . I was told that the Grail had been taken by Parsifal
to Albania, the ancient name for America, in a Templars' ship with a fiery cross
on its sail which revolved in the direction of return, towards the oases of
the South Pole. In Switzerland, beside a lake, in a tower built by his own hands
and whose construction had been determined by his dreams, I met the Master of
the Sphinx once more. He was carving a serpent on a rock, while the waters of
the lake lapped gently round his feet. He saw me arrive, exhausted, thirsty
and hungry, and invited me inside the tower to rest beside the fire while he
prepared a meal for me.
He offered me wine in a metal jug and we talked all that night and the following
day. I shall try and reproduce what he told me. 'Like you, I have lost the war.
When I have left this life, a conspiracy will take place against me. It has
always been so, because only poets will be able to understand me and continue
my work. Sometimes I think that my fellow countrymen, in this tiny land in which
I am living in this turn of the wheel, hate me, because I endanger their materialist,
money-orientated way of life. I am not from this world. I am a Hyperborean.
Like you, I am a stranger in this world, in this land inhabited by the "slaves
of Atlantis". We lost this stage of the war of the Mahabharata.
Because of this, my work will remain unfinished and only poets, as I have said,
will be able to understand it and carry it on. This homeland of mine, which
was once druidic, has remained a part of a Celtic confederation whose symbol
is a clover with four leaves, because it lacks the fifth leaf which is the Hyperborean
polar spirit, the leaf of the number of destiny. It lost it, or it never had
it. At least your homeland is the land of the Morning Star...
'But you are to blame,' I broke in. 'Why didn't you risk your all? You were
also a son of your mountainous country, lacking in sacred fury.'
'I would have lost the little that I had salvaged in the battle. And now it
will be the sons of my own flesh who will take part in the destruction of my
work. A creator, a warrior, should not have children...'
'That is true, 'I agreed.
He poured out the wine. He put some large pots and the old metal frying pan
into the cupboard. He greeted them and thanked them, talking to them as if they
could understand him. After an almost religious silence, he looked at me fixedly:
'Well, pilgrim, you have eaten and drunk. Do you wish to rest or would you rather
open your heart to me now, as you did long ago, when you were a king standing
beside the Sphinx?'
'I will talk to you, 'I replied. 'That is why I have come. Only you can answer
me.'
'SELF'
'I have been asking
myself the same question for an entire eternity, without obtaining an answer.
Is there any reason to believe that anything survives death? The "ego",
for example? Can it die? If the "ego" dies, everything comes to an
end with it. One day you explained to me that if the "ego" didn't
exist, there would be no world. If a yogi, for example, had stripped himself
of his "ego" in his profoundest state of samadhi, there would
be no one there to know that he had been in samadhi. Or perhaps he didn't
know that he was in samadhi? Because there is individuality without ego-consciousness;
it exists even in a flower, a stone. " A stone is a stone because it has
no ego-consciousness, " said Meister Eckhart.
Without consciousness, without "ego", there can be no individuation.
There is persona but not personality. And the "ego", this "ego"
I feel myself to be, that only I am, how can it die? If it dies, the world comes
to an end, because how can "I" know that it will go on without "me",
when "I" die? Only because people tell me so, because someone assures
me it is so, while I am still here. I learn that the world goes on after me.
And it is "I" who hears it, always "I". Ah, but if I really
do die, then everything comes to an end, even the world. And I cannot escape
from this. There is no possible way out for my "ego". I can only think
and feel the following: when I disappear, if ever I do disappear, someone in
eternity will again feel himself to be "me", exactly as I do now.
And this "I", who feels like this, will be "I" myself, just
as if nothing had ceased to exist; because in the immense interval, after a
whole eternity, if there is no "I" - this "I" - there is
no consciousness, so that time also comes to an end. A moment, a sigh, a nothing.
The disappearance and resurrection of the world. The sleep, the repose of the
Gods. The Eternal Return.
'I have come here to consult you, to talk to you, to think with you. How can
I know that you really exist, that you are also "I", that you feel
yourself to be an "I", "your-I"? Only because I hear you
tell me so. And it could well be a projection of myself or a splitting of myself
in two, like all the rest, words that I am saying to myself, questions and answers
that I am putting to myself, a monologue in front of a mirror in which I am
looking at myself. At the end of his dramatic life, Nietzsche also had discovered
this - so they tell me - and he became all people in one, at one and the same
time, succeeding in escaping from the circle into madness. But did he really
escape?'
He passed his old hands across his forehead.
'This has been my obsessive melody, too. The anguish of this mental brick wall,
this narrow path which seems to leave us without a way out. Without an answer.
Because, truly, there is none. You know? There is none! The only thing I can
confirm to you is that I, too, feel myself to be "me". A poor answer.
Because you don't believe me, you cannot possibly believe me. From your point
of view, only "you" feel yourself to be "me". This is how
it is for you, even when I can assure you that it is the same for me, too. With
your "me", you will never be able to understand it. Separate for ever.
There is no way out of this, no answer. That is to say, the answer is: there
is no way out, no answer. The way does not lie in renunciation of the "ego",
"crucifixion of the ego", but in its supreme affirmation, combining
it with an entelechy, with the Persona which existed before the "ego"
and which felt itself to be so old, so ancient, so filled with dignity. Combining
them in the Absolute Personality.'
'What is the "ego"? Where was it before it entered a child's body?'
I asked.
He answered me with other questions: 'Perhaps it was the "guardian angel"
which the child later loses, when the "ego" enters his body? Or perhaps
the "guardian angel" is that wise man, who goes away when the "ego"
enters the child's body and waits for "your" return? What is this
"you"? Is there, perhaps, a "third"? Or is the "ego"
a point, a fold in the mantle of the persona, of the Monad, of which only a
tiny part can enter a body made of dense matter? Have you ever considered the
possibility that the technocrats of the science of Kaliyuga managed to give
an "ego" to their electronic brains, their robots, merely by moving
a lever? Mightn't something similar have happened in the case of the human being?
Will the "ego" survive when the robot is destroyed? Will the same
"ego" be reproduced in other machines? This horrifying possibility
is for me a further proof that consciousness is an archetype which forges a
path through the universes, seeking to give itself a shape, and that it uses
the human being in the same way as it would use the machine. ...I have never
managed to say this openly: That the "ego" is an Archetype. , 'I understand,
' I said. 'They are only words, I know. New receptacles for an old wine.
Let us return to the point from which we have strayed: combining the "ego"
and the persona. There lies the gate through which one can enter and leave Ultima
Thule. I have called it Individuation. Combining the "ego" with the
Self. Changing the accent of individuality, moving it from the rational consciousness
closer to the Ocean of the Unconscious, without ceasing to be conscious but
with a different type of consciousness, bringing light as far as possible into
the darkness, moving from the Yellow Sun of rational consciousness to the Black
Sun of Individuation. And the centre that appears there, which is created, invented,
to which the accent of individuality has now moved, is the Self, a circle whose
circumference is everywhere and whose centre is nowhere. And which emits a Ray
of Green Light. The light of Gnosis. Meister Eckhart's "tiny spark"
which navigates in a ghost ship on and beneath the surface of the Sea of the
Unconscious, with all its lights on. The fulfilment of the totality of a being,
the unus mundus. This is Individuation. Giving a face to the Self, to
the "Guardian Angel", the Monad, making the Creator conscious. ...And
do you know where I found the concept of the SelfI used in order to allude to
this mystery? In the greatest psychologist of all time: in Nietzsche, your "Wounded
King", who was the first to discover it, using the German word Selbst.'
'What is the Self?' I asked.
'It is an island of glass lost in the middle of the Ocean, a city hidden in
the depths of a mountain, an oasis of warm water in the midst of the ices, it
is the Continent of the Golden Age, a castle surrounded by flames, in which
the Beloved lies asleep. ...Yes, because once there was a King, a Queen, a Sleeping
Beauty in a Wood, an Eternal Love. ...Only poets will be able to understand
me. ...
ANIMA, ANIMUS
'Eros was united
with his Beloved inside the Great Orphic, Cosmic Egg: Phanes, Erika Paios.
Eros unites, but Phobos, fear, hatred (nothing is closer to love
than hatred) disunites, leads to separation, breaks the Cosmic Egg. So as to
acquire consciousness, individuality, so as to be able one day to give a face
to the Cosmic Egg.
'Complete fusion - losing oneself in one's opposite, in the loved one, in an
effort to return to the original Androgynous - is not a good thing. It goes
against Individuation, the immortality of the persona and resurrection, which
is differentiation, the individuation of both partners, so that he and she can
come together again separated but, in another way, united for ever. Resurrected.
'If you have the great good fortune to meet your beloved again, the her ofhim,
in one of the turns of your wheel, don't make the mistake of marrying her. You
would both be destroyed. What you must do is help her to die outside you. Love
her as if you were committing a crime. The beloved must die in order to return
to life as an immortal, placing her eternity in your hands. This is the true
Her, who leads the warrior to heaven, who is not all illusion, who does not
drag him down into hell, profaning him, castrating his magic virility, turning
man into woman. She is not the devouring mother, the widow who is not the Widow,
because §he does not resign herself to her widowhood and so castrates her
son. Parsifal and" Alexander had to employ Phobos (Hatred) in order
to escape from the Great Mother, the little widow, so as to achieve the Grail,
the Stone of Change, which the Greeks called Xoanon. Totality.
'Das ewig Weibliche zieht uns hinan,' as Goethe said. "The Eternal
Feminine leads us to heaven. " Because the impulse which drives you to
fulfil the ultimate mystery, which I have called Individuation, projecting the
"ego" into the Persona, into the Monad, into the Self, giving a face
to the Gods, "lighting the darkness of the Creator", is none other
than love. Only love can make you cross the deep chasm, the drawbridge that
separates your "ego" from the castle in which your beloved lies asleep,
jumping into the abyss. It is in effect a change, a miracle. It is a Non-Existent
Flower: the Self. Fall into this flower and you will find the face of your Beloved
there. This love, this impulse, is an icy, red-green fire, which consumes everything
and projects you to heaven, loving beyond life and death, for all eternity.
This love makes you immortal. This face, this Fire of Love, which the troubadours
and Minnesanger called Woevre Saelde, Isolde, I have called Anima in the man
and Animus in the woman.
A-MOR
'It has been said
that the man who loves God needs seven incarnations in order to enter Nirvana
and liberate himself, and that the man who hates him needs only three. it is
without God but with his own "fury" that Parsifal achieved the Grail
and his individuation, his Self, his totality. This is the difference between
the Liquid Road and the Dry Road. We do not know whether, as well as his "fury",
his Phobos, his fear of the Mother, Parsifal carried with him a "memory
of a beloved", as he was supposed to have advised his friend Gawaine to
do. Parsifal, with his "fury", or his hatred, was resisting a participation
mystique. Samadhi, fusion with Adhi, the Primordial Being,
doesn't await him at the end of his road. Because this would be the way of sainthood.
What awaits him is Kaivalya, total separation, supreme individuation,
Absolute Personality, the ultimate solitude of the Superman. This is the way
of the magician, the Siddha, the tantric hero of the Grail. The cosmic isolation
of the risen Purusha.
'The mystery of the Grail has preoccupied and moved me deeply since my youth.
For this very reason, i did not wish to touch it but passed it by op tiptoe,
because i had a presentiment that this was something sacred that should not
be "psychologised". Unfortunately, i am not sure that others may not
do so in my name after I have gone. ...'
'I am surprised to hear you use the word "psychologise". Having stopped
in midstream, out of a desire to preserve the "scientific" nature
of your school at all costs, having enveloped your profoundest experiences in
the language that was in vogue at the time, so as to escape the accusation of
mysticism and magic, you nevertheless find yourself laid open to the accusation
of "psychologising" traditional and sacred knowledge, such as alchemy,
astrology, hermeticism and even the I Ching. Having done so, you have
gained nothing, because your enemies will always accuse you of mystic ambiguities
and of being a gnostic follower of Meister Eckhart.'
'I
know. This is why I have said that only poets will understand me. Because, somehow,
I have handed over the "cipher". I, too, like the troubadours ofOccitania
and the Minnesanger, have sung in code, in cipher. For example, haven't
I said that Archetypes are psychoid? That is to say that, transcending the human
psyche, they are beyond or before it. What difference, then, from the Gods of
Greece and India and of the ancient Germans? And my two or more Collective Unconsciousnesses,
incompatible between themselves? Isn't this the "Blood Memory", the
Minne of the German troubadours, who sang of the memory of a Love lost
at the beginning of time? What difference between this and the "Race Spirit"
of which the occultists speak? Without doubt, I could have gone much further,
had I, too, not lost the war. I could have linked my concept of the Collective
Unconsciousnesses with the mysterious Tibetan doctrine of the Tulku and the
Hindu-Buddhist doctrine of the Bodhisattva. A Tulku never says "I"
but "we" when referring to himself. He is a Race Spirit embodied in
an entire people. He possesses all his "I" while also being conscious
in various parallel planes or times of existence. He is ubiquitous. Thus we
link up with the theme of "I", which you raised, and with Nietzsche's
conclusion, which is no longer one, but all. ... Hinduism's Sam sara is also
my Collective Unconscious, the River of Sam sara, of those archetypal forms:
Maya, for the Hindus, Illusion. And in the midst of all this is the Self, like
an ideal centre, situated in no particular place in the immense Ocean, like
a Non-Existent Flower.
'In the west, there was once a way of individual initiation into love: the mystery
of the Grail, of its Esoteric Order ofKnights and the hermeticism of the German
and Provenial troubadours and of the Fedele d'Amore in northern Italy.
The troubadours' esotericism became a sort of Platonism, or an alchemical Tantrism
of the Left Hand. It possessed a ritual and an initiation by degrees, which
went from the choice of the initiate by the "glance" of the Lady of
the Castle - Beatrice, in the case of Dante -to the giving of a protective ring,
a girdle (Brunnhilde's Girdle in the Nibelungenlied), a handkerchief or a glove.
The initiate has been accepted. He is the Tantric Sadhaka. He then passes
into the degrees of Fenhedor, "Suitor"; Precador, "Implorer";
"Bound Man" and Drut, he who has exchanged hearts, the betrothed
- Rebis, the androgynous of the alchemists - he who has surmounted the ultimate
test of Asag, uniting with his lady only in the mind; or rather, in the
Maithuna, the mystical Tantric coitus. The Mysterium Coniunctionis.
From there he should achieve resurrection, the state of definite separation,
Individuation in the Absolute Personality, purushic, kaivalic, of which
we have already spoken. With the face of the Beloved in his soul. In alchemy,
the equivalent states are Nigredo, Albedo (from which come the names
Albania, Albion, Albi) and Rubedo, resurrection in the red immortal energy-matter
of Vajra. The Soror Mystica, the woman who is always at the side
of the alchemist, is the Amasia Uxor, the magic bride of the troubadours'
love esotericism. And she is the Yogini and Parastri, the initiated
bride of Tantrism.
'This miraculous Hyperborean initiation comes from a great distance, from the
original polar continent, where the remale magicians, the priestesses of magic
love, Morgana and Allouine, appeared. And also the women who, in the legend
of the Grail, healed the wounded warrior and the Sick King. This mystery comes
to us from an unfathomable distance. In the west, it was destroyed with the
Cathars and the Templars, with the Minnesanger and the Fedele d' Amore,
with the troubadours of the Languedoc, in the eternal war with the enemies of
the divine myth. What had been a private, unique, aristocratic initiation has
become vulgarised in the exotericism of the Church of Rome, which has taken
possession of its symbols and adulterated them. The Gnostic Lady, Sophia,
Woevre Saelde, the feminine Holy Spirit, Parakletos, the Dove, has
been popularised as the Virgin Mary; the Exchange of Hearts, which is in reality
the awakening of the Anahata chakra, has been externalised in the cult of the
heart of Jesus. The crown of thorns and the rosary have replaced the Templars'
alchemical rose of a thousand petals, the Sahasrara chakra, at the summit of
the invisible skull. It is the assassination of the sacred way of Kundalini,
of the Tantric road of the chakras. A hermetic initiation of solar love has
been adulterated by an exoteric, lunar religion, by an anthropomorphic, exclusively
materialistic cult.
'The initiation of "loveless love" has been destroyed, and man has
gone over to the diffusion of a physical, matriarchal love, centred purely on
the physical body of the woman, in which the externalised Eve triumphs, desecrating
the warrior, imposing her female urgency and her "Demetrian" fever
for procreation. Love has become human, all too human. The "loveless love"
of the warrior, of the troubadour, is the mystery of the Grail. The love of
the unresurrected woman and man is the Church of Rome, lunar Christianity. The
initiatory poem has deteriorated into the novel, the popular literature and
the unhealthy sexualism of our day.
'When we talk about the religion of love of the troubadours, of the initiated
knights of the Grail, of the true Rosicrucians, we must try to discover what
lies behind their language. In those days, love did not mean the same thing
as it does in our day. The word Amor (Love) was a cipher, it was a code
word. Amor spelt backwards is Roma. That is, the word indicated, in the way
in which it was written, the opposite to Roma, to all that Rome represented.
Also, Amor broke down into "a" and "mor", meaning
Without-Death.
That is, to become immortal, eternal, thanks to the way of initiation of A-Mor.
A way of initiation totally opposed to the way of Rome. An esoteric, solar Kristianity.
The Gnostic Kristianity of Meister Eckhart. And mine. Because I have tried to
teach western man to resurrect Kristos in his soul. Because Kristos is the Self
for western man.
'This is why Roma destroyed Amor, the Cathars, the Templars, the
Lords of the Grail, the Minnesanger, everything which may have originated
in the "Hyperborean Blood Memory" and which may have had a polar,
solar origin.
'The love talked and written about so much in novels, poetry and magazines,
the love of one's neighbour, the universal love of the churches, love of humanity,
has nothing whatsoever to do with "loveless love" (A-Mor, Without-Death),
which is a harsh disciplirie, as cold as ice, as cutting as a sword, and which
aspires to overcome the human condition in order to reach the Kingdom of the
Immortals, Ultima Thule.
'SYNCHRONICITY'
'The earth is alive,
and it feels with you. It follows your footsteps, your search, with equal anxiety,
because it will be transfigured in your triumph. The end of Kaliyuga and the
entry into a new Golden Age depend on the results of your war. The earth by
itself cannot finish the work that Nature leaves incomplete. Today the earth
has joined forces with man in his destructive passion. The great catastrophe
will occur in the first years of the Age of Aquarius. But if you can find the
entrance to the Invisible Double of this earth, fulfilling the mystery of "loveless
A-Mor", the volcanoes will become calm, the earthquake will cease and the
catastrophe will be avoided.
'There is an essential "synchronicity" between the soul and the landscape.
What you achieve in yourself will have repercussions in even the remotest corner
of the universe, like the ringing of a bell which announces a triumph or a defeat,
producing irreversible effects in a secret centre where Destiny acts. The Archetype
is indivisible and, if you once confront it in an essential manner, the effects
are universal and valid for all eternity. The old Chinese saying expresses it
well: "If a man, sitting in his room, thinks the right thoughts, he will
be heard thousands of leagues away. " And the alchemical saying, too: "It
doesn't matter how alone you are. If you do true work, unknown friends will
come to your aid.'
'What I have called
"synchronicity", Nietzsche called "lucky occurrences filled with
meaning". It becomes a poetic dialogue, a concerto for two violins, between
the man-magician and Nature. The world presents you with a "lucky occurrence
filled with meaning", it hands you a subtle, almost secret message, something
which happens without apparent reason, a-causal, but which you feel is full
of meaning. This being exactly what the world is looking for, that you should
extract that meaning from it, which you alone are capable of seeing, because
it "synchronises", it fully coincides with your immediate state of
mind, with an event in your life, so that it is able to transform itself, with
your assistance, into legend and destiny. A lucky occurrence which transformed
itself into Destiny. And once you have achieved this, everything will appear
to become the same as before, as if nothing had happened. Nevertheless, everything
has changed fundamentally and for all time, although the only ones to know it
will be you and the earth - which is now your earth, your world,
since it has given itself up to you so that you can make it fruitful. "The
earth has made itself invisible inside you", as Rilke would say, it has
become an individualised universe inside you. And although perhaps nothing may
have changed, "it might seem as if it were so, it might seem as if it were
so", to use your own words. And you will be a creative God of the world;
because you have conceived a Non-Existent Flower. You have given a meaning to
your flower.'
Notes: (1) A fruit
of the south of Chile. It is believed that whoever eats it will always return
there..