Sunday, 20 October 2013

Smoke and Mirrors and the Wizards of OZ

Come sit on the mountain top with Aktina and I and watch the world spin and see the apes jive and fall to the throbbing beat of the hate drums.
Oh man, look at those cave men go, it's the freakiest show-oh-oh, but it's not life on Mars, it's much closer than that.
And someone once said let him without sin cast the first stone and we know we are apes too and are part of the freak show and have done harm.
And from that we know that we need forgiveness, and from that we know we must forgive, and that this is the process the species must undergo, for without forgetting there can be no rebirth.

It is now evident that our species is less than it should be.
The old world's monstrous artificial constructs are becoming clear to us as we begin to unpick this puzzle and to discover that which we have had hidden from us. We can see the levers and pulleys and the cogs and grinding wheels and the intelligence that sits behind the curtain and casts its vile shadow. Slowly, inexorably and now accelerating, our compound intelligence and curiosity is driving us up the sides of the pyramid towards its capstone.
The prize is in sight.

It becomes evident, too, that we have been here before. Perhaps many times.
And that our world has been scraped clean of us each time we reached the summit.
In places we find our remnants, in our handed down myths and legends we see the lingering smoke of once great blazings and begin to see, through the haze that is our reality, that these are no myths but the chinese whispers of ancient truths.

Our wizard masters understand our limited and diminished consciousness for it is of their forging.
Their smoke and mirrors, their flashes and bangs draw our ape attentions, blind us to reality, press us into petty detail and weaken our unity. So we have hate, so distrust, so fear and so we kill to preserve what they have taught us to think of as "I" and as "mine".

Some think they see though this Magick and from that vision believe that salvation lies in their own, individual rejection of evil. They await their personal lifting up in the rapture that speaks of the few leaving behind the many, as if their god would be so childishly barbaric as to reward those that glory in such elitist bullshit.
And if we read their various books we see that indeed "he" is.
It is not difficult to see that love doesn't live in such a man made deity.
And that such a one is an illusion created just for them.
And what a persistent and blood drenched illusion it is.

Aktina whispers that we are one, or we are none.
That in that simple thought lies the last step to the summit.
That the last time we reached this stage we failed to understand that the grail is within us, that its name is love, and to summon it we just need to call its name.
It is, after all, the word.

And so love to you,
Olive Farmer and Aktina Pempti
xxx xxx xxx
(Count them)


Thursday, 17 October 2013

For You.

Product of lying histories
Born into ignorance
Our lanterns are dark
Casting no light forwards
Dimly illuminating our bloodied past
We crawl on our bellies
Into a tomorrow that is bleak

Fear is our daily companion
Uncertainty our measure
Those that can, dance
In dancing, oblivion
The rest shape themselves foetal
Remembering bliss
Fingertip gripping the edge of the abyss

What stays your hand from holding mine
What dark force prevents you
Do we not share a purpose
Are our aims not the same
To find a way through this artificial labyrinth
And find at its centre
The understanding of love

And in that finding that simplicity
Find too our authority
To uncover our true light
And finally see our way.

Hold hands, friends.
Love olive & aktina
xxx xxx xxx