No
one likes being told what to do, but civil anarchy also sucks and has proved
itself untenable. Liber Oz, referenced
in Part 1 of this essay, is not talking about anarchy; it is challenging
Piscean-era Judeo-Christian moral relativisms that double as straightjackets. Even
the post-modern occultist slogan “Nothing is true, everything is permitted” is
not an anarchistic war cry; nor was it ever uttered by an 11th
century ascetic Islamic fundamentalist mystic/jihadist named Hassan ibn Sabbah.
The slogan was penned by William S. Burroughs. Sabbah only became noteworthy
because the Discordian authors of The
Illuminatus! Trilogy worked fanciful conspiratorial ideas about him into
their novels. It is a tip of the hat to how malleable and provisional ideas and
systems are. The New Aeon is expected to be an era when this is acknowledged
and done so in power-conferring freedom rather than fear. And anarchy is not to
be conflated with Chaos, which is what post-modern occultists propose is at the
root of the New Aeon:
Etymology:
Middle English (15th century), formless primordial space, from
Latin, from Greek khaos.
Chaos
is defined, by standard American dictionaries as “the disordered state of
unformed matter and infinite space that existed before the ordered universe [the
Cosmos].”
The
Concise Encyclopedia of Science and Technology (5th edition, McGraw
Hill Publishers) defines Chaos (Chaos theory) as a “system behavior that depends
so sensitively on the system’s precise initial conditions that it is, in
effect, unpredictable and cannot be distinguished from a random process, even
though it is deterministic in a mathematical sense.” The theory observes that
Chaos only seems chaotic but is rather elegant design, and besides all the
esoteric mathematical jargon, it is tied in with concepts about environmental
adaptation and interdependent arising.
Chaos
is the hypostasis—that is, the Divine Ground—of Cosmos. It can be said that
Cosmos is continually reasserting itself by drawing from its matrix. Chaos and
Cosmos are two sides of the same coin: numinous and immanent Existence. The
Boundless and the Measurable. Thus,
Cosmos is a place where everything that can happen does happen whether or not
it is someone’s idea of permissible. It is not a new concept by any means, it’s
just not cool to glorify Chaos in a World where the overwhelming majority of
people need structures, blinders, and neat answers to tranquilize them while
being herded through cattle stalls and gauntlets toward a meat grinder.
Literary
dystopias aside, the Age to come is often thought of as a “Golden” one. And
that proverbial Golden Age is a revisiting of a time when everything was
everyone’s idea of perfect. The kicker is that the Golden Age redux is an era
in which everyone is perfectly conscious, willful, and complicated, instead of
automatons like they were when things were perfect and simple. Underlying the concept is the kvetch that
consciousness got us into this mess, and consciousness will get us out—once consciousness
evolves beyond the limitations of the human-animal nervous system. How to imminentize it into immanence is the question and is in the realm of mysticism and
occultism, not social politics.
The
truth of the matter is that the Golden Age of a past or future doesn’t occur in
Time or culture. It is the phenomenon of self-actualization. It occurs in
select persons and has done so since hominids became self-conscious and thus were
evicted from Golden Age National Park and cast adrift in the Sea of Samsara. Being a potential and a continuum,
it is always now or never. There is no place to go to retrieve the Golden Age either
in memory or expectation.
The
New Aeon, thus, is not a time but an idiom that promotes the aspiration of self-actualization.
In the context of occultism and mysticism, it is the glorification of Personal
Gnosis, which is a recurring and subversive act in the annals of history. It is an ideal, which is the liberation of
consciousness.
It is not necessary to deny anything.
It is only necessary to know ourselves. Then we will naturally seek that which
is needful to our being. Our significance does not lie in the extent to which
we resemble others or in the extent to which we differ from them. It lies
within our ability to be ourselves. This may well be the entire object of life;
to discover ourselves, our meaning. This does not come in a sudden burst of
illumination; it is a constant process which continues so long as we are truly
alive. The process cannot continue unobstructed unless we are free to undergo
all experience and willing to participate in all existence. Then the
significant questions are not “is it right” or “is it good” but rather “how
does it feel” and “what does it mean.” Ultimately these are the only questions
that can approach truth but they cannot be asked in the absence of freedom.
—Jack
Parsons, Freedom is a Two-Edged Sword:
Selected
bibliography
Peter
Carroll. Liber Null & Psychonaut.
San Francisco: Red Wheel/Weiser, LLC. 1987.
Aleister Crowley. Liber Oz. http://www.hermetic.com/crowley/libers/lib77.html.
Accessed June 17, 2013.
Jack
W. Parsons. Freedom is a Two Edged Sword. Reno, Nevada: New Falcon Publications, 2001.
The Principia Discordia. http://www.cs.cmu.edu/~tilt/principia/body.html#greyface.
Accessed June17, 2013.
Wikipedia
entry on Eric Voegelin. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eric_Voegelin.
Accessed June 17, 2013.
Excerpt
from Chapter 20 A Snake in the Grass from The Savior at the End of Time Book 3
in the Sorcerers and Magi Series
About
42 days after his confrontation with Lord Consul Tau-Bridge, Zosi began to be
spotted in flamboyantly full ceremonial regalia within the Mercury Gardens. He
would wear a tunic of thick raw silk and tightly fitted, black leggings that
were made of tanned leather and full of straps and whips of lacings. Over this,
he would wear high boots that matched a mottled, purple-black tanned leather
cope embossed with images of ourobori, moondragons, and griffins. His hair was
meticulously plaited and decorated with pins and ribbons. His head was topped
with a black double-cone hat that was rakishly crimped and folded over so that
the tips of the horn-like cones, embellished with opalescent jingle bells,
menacingly flounced and jangled in front of his face. He wielded a rather large
and tall staff, the core of which was made of slender poles of cedar and fennel
stalks. It was wrapped in embossed leather that matched his ensemble. Like a
sinister maypole, the staff’s leather sheath was itself wrapped in a filigreed
design of cords and leather straps on which gadgets and flotsam were affixed
and that dangled, flail- and cat-o-nine-tails-like, from the staff’s finial,
which was a gold spearhead in the shape of a fish with an acorn protruding from
its mouth.
Like
that, he would stroll about the Gardens and then stop here or there to deliver
a sermon that attracted larger and larger crowds as word of the spectacle grew.
He
would begin the rant in a gentle voice with the words, “See the illumination at
the center of being,” and materialize some small sparkly object that would
fascinate and mesmerize onlookers.
“The
body and all phenomena arise causally and provisionally within absolute being,”
he would continue, yet still in a very meek and quiet voice. It would be
trembling and barely audible despite his ferocious appearance. “There is no
time and no dimension to space, both being mere adaptive projections of mind. The
personality is an interdependently arising construction of circumstances and
experiences, driven by reactivity bred by conditioning devoid of awareness or
true will. What is it to wake up from the idea of yourself? Heaven, hell, God,
the Adversary, pleasure, pain, and all the pairs of opposites are projections
of your own consciousness. You project ideas out of yourself. Treating them as
independent entities, you go into them, fear them, and allow them to have power
over you although they are your own creations. No one is there to deliver you;
you must deliver yourself. Glimpse self-effacement and the root of your
existence. Reality is silent, blissful, self-composed Being. This is the
Redemptive Principle, the Christos, the Ground, and the Life beneath the
mechanism.”
Then
he would walk off to another part of the Gardens and say it again even though
people weren’t really listening and hardly understood him; they were just
grooving on being part of the show and the very groovy euphoric feeling
Zosimo’s magical words incited in them.
But
finally, one day, in a rather ballsy display, Zosimo materialized several wheel
barrels of fried cod fish and sugar-dusted zeppoli, which his Inchaote acolytes
distributed throughout the Gardens.
The
spectacle drew a multitude of gawkers, most of whom very festively reveled in
being part of the scene. Few in authority were much concerned with Zosi’s
banter—quasi-Buddhist transcendent drivel that would awe the needy masses and
teach them to be resigned and endure circumstance, but philosophically so. The
fried fish and dough balls catering endeavor was a weird Discordian metaphor.
Toward
the latter part of the day, however, an outbreak of explosive diarrhea hit
every Senate member who had not earlier partaken of fried fish and dough. And
it was no silly prank but a violent attack, lethal in nature, leaving several
magistrates—including Tau-Bridge—with shit extruding from every orifice: blind,
deaf, choked, tortured, and incapacitated in stink and waste.
At
the same moment, every locked-in person across five sovereignties within Terra Novit
woke up. Both meek and menacing, novice and adept, innocent and fiend, without
judge or judgment, merit or demerit, without any distinction or categorization,
they woke up and were tasked with helping each other break out of the places in
which they had been confined.
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