Sunday, January 24, 2016

Getting Back on the Horse and Killing Your Dragons

Ouroboros 16 x 20 digital image. copyright 2016 Dee Rapposelli


A few night ago, I was feeling discouraged about my creative endeavors and pondering existential thoughts about being and purpose. Teary-eyed, I fell asleep shortly after the witching hour and had a bad dream that included a continually recurring scene in which a small bird or bug-like creature with talons kept clamping into and piercing my upper lip--the focus of expression and nourishment. I kept struggling with and then dislodging the little monster by carefully withdrawing the talons from the piercings--all the while being careful not to harm the creature--as if it were some kind of vicious little pet. I drifted into another, quieter stage of sleep before fully awakening. When I did wake, I did not feel an emotional charge.  I felt profoundly quiet and stilled in my mind. Completely in the present moment. I slept peacefully for the remainder of the night and into morning. When I awoke, I put aside all the misgivings I had had about spending time doing the things I do. I got back on the horse, and that day was probably the most productive day I had had in years....





Turning opposite the sun’s westward arc, she could see a clearing. A tattered and huge pine tree with tortuous bows loomed from the middle of it. Lumie took a few steps closer but was startled to detect movement within that alcove. People were there. She wasn’t sure whether she should approach. Then Rodney came into view. He smiled brightly and waved his hand for her to near.

“Took you long enough,” he said.

She was about to ask him what he was doing there when she realized where she was. An ancient pine tree was at the hub of this highpoint and the full moon in daylight was directly overhead. She had alighted on Lunarium Hill. Zosi was there, too. He was squatting beside the tree and hammering something into the ground.

“What’s he doing?” Lumie mouthed.

“Killing mini-dragons,” Rodney replied. “Bite-size.”

“Is anyone else here?” she asked.

“No, there too busy being fuck-ups,” Rodney replied.

“The Lord Consul Tau-Bridge is going to give Dade a job,” Zosi uttered in a wondrous voice. It was jagged with breathlessness because of whatever he was hammering away at.

“What?” Lumie replied, not because she hadn’t heard him but because the idea was crazy.
“Tau-Bridge Sortiar is offering Dade a job at this very moment. He should take it; otherwise, he’s going to end up like me,” Zosi said.

“A job doing what?” Lumie exclaimed.

Rodney shrugged. Zosi continued to pound the ground. He made an “I don’t know” gesture with a smirk and lit-up eyes.

Lumie insisted that he and Rodney be serious and tell her what Zosi was doing.

“He’s killing dragons,” Rodney repeated.

As Lumie stepped closer to the professor, she saw that his hands and clothes were caked with brackish, sanguineous gunk and that he was smooshing small dragons into a sigil gouged into the dirt. The dragons were pot-bellied and about the size of golf balls. They were fiery-bright colors and had tiny claws and cute dragon heads with bulging eyes and cock’s combs on their chins and heads. The creatures were mindlessly rutting around the dirt and dragon-blood mud and sniffing and nibbling at the remains of their sacrificed and macerated brothers and sisters until their own time came to be snatched up by Zosi and pummeled.

Lumie was astonished and nauseated by the sight. She felt sorry for those little dragons.

“You want one?” Zosi said and tossed a bright, winged, fiery-colored creature at her. It immediately clamped its jaw onto Lumie’s index finger and deeply pierced the digit with its fangs. The sting and burn made Lumie hiss and wail and flail her hand. She gouged the creature’s eyes and crushed its head with the fingers of her free hand to dislodge it. Then her own hands were full of gunk but there was no pain—or even a wound—in her finger.

Zosi snickered in a way Lumie had not heard before. “You wanna’ do one?” he asked, and held out the gooey rod he was using to beat the creatures into his sigil.

“No,” Lumie said abruptly and was crying.

“It’s not like they’re real,” Rodney disdainfully commented.

“The real ones don’t look like this,” Zosi said, continuing with the slaughter.

“The real ones are ‘metaphorical,’” Rodney crassly added.

“The real ones don’t look like dragons,” Zosi asserted.

“Why are you doing this anyway?” Lumie screeched.

“Someone has to,” Rodney remarked.

“Sure you don’t want to smoosh one?” Zosi asked.

However appalled and terrorized, Lumie thought she ought to. This was a very special and eventful journey, and if Zosi said so, then . . . But she couldn’t get herself to do it.

“I was saving yours for when you showed up in case you wanted to kill it yourself,” he said. “I’ll do it for you; it’s not a problem,” Zosi assured her.

“Didn’t I just kill one?” she asked.

“Dade’s,” Rodney piped in.

“I killed Dade’s dragon?” Lumie exclaimed.

“Well, you did, and now you did,” Zosi cryptically quipped.

“The real one and the metaphorical one,” Rodney chimed in.

Thank you, Rodney. I got that,” Lumie griped.

“Alright, Lumie. I’m going to kill your dragon now. Come over here,” Zosi announced. The tone of his voice had changed. He was not goofy or spaced-out but professor-like. A breathless specialness inflated Lumie’s lungs. Rodney gently and soberly smiled as if Lumie was now in for a great moment. He hung back as Lumie stepped closer to her teacher.

“Magianism is good for girls, but if you’re too mooshy and watery, you need to do something else,” he told her and added in a mood infused with annoyance that Dade should have been killing her dragon. “But he’s too busy.”

Lumie bit back her tears and vowed to become a little darker and more sorceress-y. Fighting repulsion about the violence and gore about the little dragons, she tried to let curiosity take over.

Zosi grasped one that was serpentine, with webbed claws and fin-like structures instead of wings. It was a very sticky-bright turquoise blue. “This is your dragon,” he said and held it by the tail so that it flailed and twisted to spring up to nip Zosi’s fingers.

Lumie merely tried to remember that it wasn’t “real,”but she was feeling queasy and macabre—panicked in fact. Zosi braced the thing in the bloody mud on the sigil and took hold of the rod.

“You know what a Pyr Sacra empowerment is, Lumie?” Zosi asked.


“Yeah,” Lumie replied. She was about to tell him that she seemed to have gotten one from an old mage just before. Then she felt her head open up to a massive nova of adamantine light as the rod crushed the dragon’s tiny skull. There was only light and space of a quality that was deeper than the taste the old turbaned man had given her to get her up the hill. It was not like those EMA trips that Zosi was so generous with. No. There was something very spacious and clear about this experience. She felt very safe and soothed in the effulgence, and she knew that it would be lasting. 

An Excerpt from Chapter 16 Killing Dragons from The Savior at the End of Time by Dionesia Rapposelli(click on book title in the header of this page to visit it at the Kindle store on amazon.com)


The Savior at the End of Time occult fiction


Tuesday, January 19, 2016

Danny & Leo --A Bit of a Slacker pt 2 Excerpt from Sorcerers and Magi series

A 4+minute audio mix of an excerpt from Chapter VI of the cross-genre literary/occulitist/fantasy fiction novel La Maga A Story about Sorcerers and Magi by Dionesia Rapposelli. The selection is a partner to the previous one title A Bit of a Slacker. Score is an audio mix courtesy of Order Ov Thee Octopi



Saturday, January 16, 2016

Monday, January 4, 2016

The Glory of the Goddess and Kali with Excerpt from novel La Maga





“‘The primordial creative vibration is the bow; oneself is the arrow. The Supreme Divinity is the target. Penetrating it unerringly, become one with it, just as the arrow unites with its target.’”
When the audience settled from its enthusiasm, Sofia joined her hands in prayer and chanted:

I meditate on She who embodies existence, the grantor of perfection, who is utterly luminous, whose eyes swell with tears of compassion, and who holds in her hands the net of unity, the scimitar of wisdom, the bow of determination, and the arrow of penetration.
    
She proceeded to sprout 10 weapon-wielding arms.
“The sword of discrimination, club of articulation, bow of determination, arrow of penetration, pike of attention, rod of restraint, axe of right action, net of unity, trident of harmony, and discus of revolving time. With these weapons,” she announced, “the adept slays the mighty host of demons within himself.” She began uttering the names of demons known to Hindu myth:

Mahahanu: The Great Deceiver
Parivarita: The Aimless One
Bidala: The Hypocrite
Kruddha: Anger
Ugrasya:  The Savage
Durdhara: Given in to Temptation
Raktabija: Rampant Desire
Chanda: The Vicious
Munda: The Malicious
Shumbha: Conceit
Nishumbha: Self-deprecation

Armed, menacing, livid creatures, hairy and ogre-like, with snouts and tusks, claws and tails appeared. They amassed exponentially, charging upon the transfigured maga who glided about, dodging attacks and hurling weapons at the beasts. A whirlwind melee double-eighted the field until all the hobgoblins were cut to the quick. The field was rendered into a pit of bloody mud and grizzle. Severed heads, limbs, and entrails of monsters were heaped about. Sofia, winded and drenched in blood, resolutely stood in the midst of it.
She stretched her arms up, wrung them, and shimmied as if shaking off a chill. The grizzle that coated her dissolved. The field resumed its earlier, more pristine condition. The crowd cheered. Sofia produced a golden goblet of wine and sipped it. She smiled. While lingering in this manner, she explained that the phantasmagoria just witnessed was selected from a particularly important Hindu tale called the The Glory of the Goddess, “which relates three episodes of how the Great Goddess, who is the embodiment of the power of all the gods, battles demons to restore the order of the universe.” 
She was nearing the end of her speech when a giant water buffalo with a tremendous rack of horns sprung onto the field. It rutted and bellowed, threw up dust, and charged.
“‘Yes, go ahead and roar! Roar and bellow while I finish drinking this wine,’” she told the creature. “‘When I’m through, you’ll be DEAD and the gods will be roaring in this very place!’” She egged on the audience to cheer, adding that “the worst demon of all that needs to be slain is the Great Ego, which manifests as the animal-familiar of the god of death. That demon is simply called the ‘buffalo-demon,’ Mahishasura.
The great animal charged. Sofia pranced around the beast’s rut, racing and skirting over the field while dueling the creature’s horns with a trident. Finally, she took a ferocious running leap at the creature as it charged. Skirting a head-on thrust, she stuck her weapon into the animal’s side and pole-vaulted onto its back. She pressed her left foot onto the buffalo’s neck and, although her weight on the beast had to have been slight, it sunk as if overwhelmed.

Collapsing, a fissure opened between the horns of the animal’s head. From it emerged another livid ogre. The audience squealed. Sofia produced a double-edged sword and, with it, lopped off the ogre’s head. (From chapter Chapter 12 of La Maga A Story about Sorcerers and Magi by Dionesia Rapposelli)


Check out this fantastic (viral) clip, posted on Facebook, about Mahakali, who appears as a form of the goddess Durga in a key Hindu scripture called the Devi Mahatmyam (Glory of the Goddess). It depicts the goddess battling demons, which she does in the Devi Mahatmyam to restore the order of the universe. But the demons are our own vices and faults that those of us who are spiritual aspirants often find that we must confront and overcome the hard way via hard life lessons. Kali is said to mean "She Who Turns All Forms to Ashes." She is the goddess of the life/death cycle and of transcendence. Toward the end of the video, she is depicted in her iconic Tantric form: standing on the chest of inert Shiva (her masculine divine counterpart). This image represents the dynamic ferocity of manifest existence at play on the quiescent divine ground of Absolute Reality from which it ever emerges and subsides like a dream












Posted by KALI Mahavidya on Saturday, October 24, 2015